


All the King's Men

by markofthemoros



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Feels, Blackmail, Brotherhood, Developing Friendships, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Prompto Argentum Needs a Hug, So does Noctis really, Torture, Whump, i'm writing an oc who is in the closet and i'm practicing those feels, like very mild, mild Promptis, noctis is my guinea pig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-05-05 21:58:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14627868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markofthemoros/pseuds/markofthemoros
Summary: Noctis hasn't seen Prompto around at school that day. He thinks nothing of it though, not until he tries to call him later to check up on him, and cannot get ahold of him. A few minutes later, he receives a photo from an unknown number, of beat-up and battered Prompto, hands tied behind his back and looking barely conscious, and the text: 'I'm afraid Prompto is unable to answer your call right now.' Kidnapped Prompto. Shameless catering to my whumpy itch. Noctis gets his fair share as well as the people holding Prompto keep him updated on the decline of his friend's wellbeing.





	1. He Wasn't at School

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sinikka_von_Wolperting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinikka_von_Wolperting/gifts).



> This plot bunny came to me literally at 11:30 pm one night, and I shared it with Sinikka von Wolperting. Well, it kinda took wind, and now I owe her the entire thing.  
> I know there are so many kidnap whump fics, and this kinda starts out like many of them. But I promise, it's not my intention to be a copycat and I'm looking to steer this into an original direction and give it my own spin.  
> Feedback and critique would be much appreciated and gladly received.  
> Beta read by Elillierose.
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr](https://markofthemoros.tumblr.com)

1 - He Wasn’t at School

 

Noctis glanced at his phone disinterestedly: four minutes to the bell. Prompto was running late. While not unheard of for his photographic friend to be tardy, usually he was more careful. Noctis typed him a quick message, asking where he was, but before Prompto had answered, the teacher entered the classroom and told everyone to put their phones away. Shrugging, the prince turned his phone onto silent, and stuffed it into his bag.

 

But when Prompto didn’t show up for the entire first period, nor the second nor the third, Noctis was beginning to wonder. He checked his phone on the lunchbreak - Prompto hadn’t read his message. Was he sick? That would explain a lot. If Prompto was sick, he was most likely sleeping. He slept like the dead when he was running a fever; it wouldn’t have even surprised the prince if he hadn’t heard his phone.

 

He doesn’t see him the entire day. Surely, if Prompto would have been at school, he would have known. They had the last period Calculus together, and Prompto was still absent. Ill it is then, or just hookey, probably binge playing Assassin’s Creed, now that he thought about it. The new game was released last Friday, and Prompto had been on and on about it since. Maybe his friend had just valued his entertainment over his education. Noctis could certainly imagine that happening. Not that he himself ever could; Ignis would never let him live it down.

 

The bell rang, signalling the end of the day. Huffing, the prince packed his books and headed for the main entrance where the black car of the royal household was waiting. Ignis rose out from the driver’s seat and circled around to hold the door for him.

 

“Greetings.”

 

“Hi, Specs,” the prince flicked his wrist. “I’ve got it.” Nodding, Ignis returned to the wheel, and Noctis climbed in, earning himself a look from the adviser as he slammed the door shut behind him with a little too much force. Giving the other a sheepish grin, Noctis relaxed himself against the cushions as Ignis pulled out from the parking lot.

 

They drove in silence for a while. Ignis’s phone rang once, and he took it, but the prince paid little heed to what was being said. Something about the budget breakdown Ignis was to present the next day. It sounded tedious, and not really like his business, so Noctis let the man’s voice fade to the back of his mind as he gazed outside.

 

His mind drifted to Prompto, and he dug out his phone. A light frown appeared on his forehead with the undelivered status of the message. Sick or not, eight hours was pushing it. He called Prompto.

 

It rang.

 

And rang.

 

On the sixth ring, there was the sound. Noctis was already about to greet him when the cheery voice of his friend sang,  _ “Hiyoo! Looks like you’ve reached Prompto. Can’t really pick up right now. Message me, okey? Laters!” _ All but snapping his mouth shut, the prince let out a disappointed huff. He was left staring at the screen as if waiting for it to come alive with a call from the blond at any second.  

 

“Something on your mind, Noct?” Ignis asked, his eyes on the rearview mirror.

 

“Prom wasn’t at school today.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“He’s not answering his phone,” there was a hint of worry in his voice. He tried to call again, only to shove the phone onto the seat frustratedly as the call again went into the voicemail. “Dammit!”

 

“Language, Your Highness,” Ignis reminded amusedly; Noctis glared at him via the mirror, and Ignis added more softly, “I’m sure Prompto is just preoccupied. Would you like me to contact him?”

 

“Nah, it’s alright. I’ll-” He was interrupted by the beeping of his phone, signalling a received message. “About the time!” Noctis laughed out. “Took you lo-”

 

Noctis’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes flew wide open as the image of Prompto was burned into his retinae.

 

The front of his school uniform was ripped at several places and tattered with deep crimson blotches. He was sitting on a stool, hands behind his back. And his hair was swept to the side, as if to better present the bruising adorning his left cheek. A disturbing streak of blood running down from his nose disappeared beneath the duct tape splayed over his mouth. Below the picture, it read: ‘I’m afraid Prompto is unable to answer your call right now.’

 

“What the fuck?!” Noctis bolted to sit up straight.

 

The car swerved as Ignis quickly steered them back to the lane. “Do you  _ mind _ , Noct?!” he barked. “Might I suggest you refrain from…” his voice faded out as the horrified look on the prince’s face sunk. “Noct?”

 

Not listening, the prince punched in Prompto’s speed dial. “Prompto…?!’

His heart thrummed as he waited desperately for the other to pick up. He let out a clipped roar at the voicemail, and immediately tried again. No answer. “Fuck!”

 

“Noct?” Ignis asked tentatively, his confused worry now clearly audible.

 

“Shut up, Ignis!” He didn’t even look at the strategist, solely focused on the hollow beeps in his ear. He wanted to cry out as the prerecorded voice of Prompto sung out again. “What…?”

 

“Noct, what is going on?”

 

“I, I dunno. Prompto is-” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t give a name to this. What the fuck was going on?!

 

His phone went off again, and Noctis’s first reaction was to fling the damn thing out of the window, but he held himself together. Gripping the device almost tightly enough to crack it, the prince panted through his nose as he clicked the message open, fearing what he would find inside.

 

‘I believe I have your attention, Your Highness. Now, young Prompto here has been enjoying our hospitality, and much as I’d like to keep him around, I’m afraid whether or not that is going to be the case is going to be up to you.’

 

“The fuck…?!” There was a genuine phone number the message was sent from, although unknown to him. Seeing red, Noctis punched the green phone icon. His lips drew into an ugly snarl at the painstaking beeps. Waiting to hear the voice of the sick bastard who was doing this, the prince was positively fuming as the dial tone went on.

 

Only at the twentieth beep did he finally give up. With a stifled grunt, he cut the call, but only hesitated for half a second before he called again.

 

It hadn’t registered that Ignis had stopped the car. The adviser sat motionless on the front seat, his shaken eyes nailed onto his young ward in the rearview mirror.

 

There was no answer. About ready to strangle someone right then and there, Noctis let out an enraged bark as he flung the phone to the seat. Panting, he gripped the fabric of his slacks, knuckles white. Prompto was-

 

His best friend was-!

 

His phone went off, and the raven practically leaped to reach for it; a surge of fire coursed through him at the unfamiliar number splayed onto his screen. Seething, he tapped on the envelope icon. 

 

'You are persistent, Your Highness, I have to give you that. No phone calls, though. They are far too easy to trace nowadays, I'm sure you understand.'

 

Noctis read the words over a few times. Then, with a low growl, he went to type an answer.

 

‘What have you done to him?! Answer the damn phone!’

 

‘Now what did I just say?’

 

He let out a frustrated grunt. ‘How the fuck would I even know if he’s still alive?! Just let me talk to him you sonovabitch!’ He almost smashed the screen in with the ‘send’.

 

“Noct…”

 

“Not now, Specs.”

 

“Noctis?” Ignis asked warily. “What is it?”

 

“Prompto’s-” God, he couldn’t even finish it. “Prompto’s-”

“Prompto’s been kidnapped.” Noctis’s eyes squeezed shut, he pinched the bridge of his nose tightly enough for the skin to redden as his lips drew into an ugly grimace.

 

Ignis’s gasp was promptly missed. “Kidnapped?!”

 

“Yeah,” Noctis half-moaned, half-whimpered. “He wasn’t at school, Specs, he...he’s wearing his uniform-”

 

“Noct…”

 

Without another word, Noctis thrust him the phone. Ignis took it, and this time, Noctis wished he hadn’t heard the gasp.

 

Ignis didn’t say a thing for a good minute. As he was reading through the exchange, Noctis’s phone vibrated with a new message. His face dead-serious, he handed the phone back. Noctis took it, only to glare at the loudspeaker symbol, wanting absolutely nothing to do with it and yet he knew he couldn’t ignore it. Desperate fear clutching his heart, he opened the message.

 

Prompto’s voice was raspy, like he had been coughing -or screaming- his throat sore. "Noct?...I'm fine...no need to...worry about me." The message was cut short as Prompto started coughing again. Wide-eyed and his face pale, Noctis's thumb hovered over the replay button until the screensaver time was up and the device went dark.

 

They sat in silence for a moment, save for the prince’s shaky pants. Eventually, Ignis spoke, his voice gravelly as he spoke to the steering wheel:

 

“Noct? We have to inform the citadel.” His reply was a shaken sound. “This is beginning to spiral out of control.”

 

“Like hell we will.”

 

“Noct, you are being blackmailed. This isn’t just about you and Prompto.”

 

The prince gasped. Blackmailed. That’s what this was? Yes. Yes, that’s exactly it, wasn’t it? Those sons of a bitches were using Prompto as their leverage. Expecting Noctis to dance to their tune.

 

No fucking way.

 

With a blind snarl, Noctis unlocked the phone again, and opened the recent calls. He hit Prompto. He could feel his magic swirling beneath his skin, crackling with his rage as he listened for the dull beeps, not really expecting an answer but refusing to submit himself to being ordered around like some dog, either. 

 

It rang. 

 

And rang. 

 

Eventually, the voicemail came on again, and Noctis tore the device from his ear with a frustrated grunt. “Fucking answer me!”

 

For a moment, there were only his heavy pants.

 

“Noct-”

 

“Ignis, do me a solid and  _ shut up _ , will you?!” he barked. “I-”

 

His sentence cut short when his phone went off. His heart skipping a beat, he eyed the loudspeaker symbol for a critical second before he clicked to play the audio clip.

 

He immediately wished he hadn’t.

 

In the background, he heard the familiar Chocobo theme ringtone Prompto had set for Noctis. Panic audible in his voice, Prompto pleaded, “...nono...no...no, you don't need to-” Noctis’s heart plummeted at the stomach-turning crunch and the "Aaaaagh!"

 

The audio clip cut off, and Noctis was panting raggedly through his nose, whimpering lowly into the hand clasped over his mouth. His eyes like saucers, the prince stared at nothing as the echoes of Prompto’s agony assaulted him.

 

He gagged into the hand a little, squeezing his eyes shut as he fought the desperate cry building in his throat, fighting to get out. His fingers dug into his skin as he screamed into his palm.

 

The signalling tremors ran up his hand before the sound for another received message played out. Teeth sank into a quivering lip, and he gulped; blinking a few times to chase away the moisture that had gathered in his eyes, the royal opened up the image.

 

Shot from behind Prompto's back, the red contrasted hauntingly with the fair skin where the zip ties had grazed his wrists. The two broken fingers stuck out in an unsettling way. His dominant hand, Noctis noted, whimpering quietly. God, he was sorry! He was so sorry. He would have gladly had someone crushing his entire arm right now if only it could have undone what was done to Prompto.

 

But it didn’t. Nothing would, as below the picture, the ruthless words solidified this sudden wakeful nightmare he had been dragged into.

 

'Now, allow me to make myself clear, Your Highness, I do not like having to repeat myself. No phone calls unless I specifically say so.'

 

Another message.

 

‘But please, do try me if you like.’

 

On the front seat, Ignis sat his arms crossed, facing the road. His expression was stern as he uttered warily, “Do I even dare to ask what that was about?” 

 

He sounded calm, but Noctis could see below his adviser’s demeanor. Ignis was six small words from freaking out.

 

Noctis’s red-rimmed gaze was lost and confused as he looked at the brunet, and couldn’t help hating himself some more. How Ignis fought to keep himself in control, even though he was obviously shocked beyond words...and how Noct himself had done nothing but barked at him since the first message…barked, and made things worse for Prompto! He was pathetic. 

Swallowing back the salt that threatened to surface again, his voice only slightly above a whisper, he muttered, “They broke two of his fingers.” Then, after a small pause, he added, “It’s my fault, Specs.”

 

Ignis was out of the car before it properly registered. The back door was thrown open, and Ignis’s arms were around him, pulling him close. His first instinct was to fight it, but as the grip only tightened, Noctis tensed up for a few seconds before going slack in Ignis’s arms as he now pressed into the embrace. 

 

“Never...never even for a second think that it’s your fault!” And Noctis gasped at the adviser’s tone. So close to a growl it didn’t even sound like Ignis anymore. “Those people who are doing this, they are the only ones at fault,” the man was murmuring into his hair as the steely hold tightened. 

 

“Ignis…?” Hissing, the prince grabbed ahold of Ignis’s arm, like a drowning man holds onto driftwood.

 

The phone went off again. “Stop it,” he mouthed, not even really saying it. He didn’t want to know. No more.

 

It beeped again, and all Noctis wanted was to let go and surrender to the streams. He wanted to be dragged under and just die.

 

Gulping loudly, Ignis pulled away. “We should…”

 

“Yeah,” the prince nodded just once. The phone vibrated in his hand again to signal the third unread message.

 

Images.

 

Images of him and Prompto. One of the two of them wearing their school uniforms and walking at the mall.

 

One of just Prompto, holding a half-eaten cone of ice cream and smiling. 

 

One of them together, taken about a week ago, when he and Prompto had gone to a gaming arcade. He recognized that place. Gladio had been with them, too. The shield was in the picture, too, standing farhter back, with him and Prompto in the front, their attention on something in front of them, a screen, looking so damn exhilarated…!

 

Noctis knew what this was.

 

This was a scare. A reminder of just how much he had to lose. And also a way to tell him how close they had already come without anyone realizing. They had been at the arcade with them, and not even Gladio had noticed anything. A way of telling him that no-one close to him was safe. An attempt to freak him out.

 

He was freaking out. He wanted to scream!

 

That smile...Prompto, gone. Forever. He couldn’t fathom the thought.

 

As the phone went off yet again, Noctis hated the way he clicked on the envelope symbol almost eagerly. He feared what he would see. But he also feared what would happen if he didn’t.

 

‘I believe you understand the situation, Your Highness. Now, this doesn’t have to get nasty. Just do as you’re told, and no-one has to get hurt.

The phone will ring in exactly ten seconds. I suggest you answer it.’

 

Noctis had just finished reading as the screen begun to flash with an incoming call, the all too familiar unknown number screaming at him on the caller ID. Sharing a quick glance with the adviser, Noctis slided to the right.

 

The voice on the other end was mechanical, warped beyond any hope of recognition. “Put it on the speaker.” Only grunting in understanding, the prince hesitated for less than a second before hitting the icon.

 

“It’s on.”

 

“Excellent. See, Your Highness, you can be reasonable.”

 

Noctis was going to kill him. If it was the last thing he did, he would tear his heart out with his bare hands!

 

“Now, I’m assuming young Master Scientia is there with you. Say hello, Ignis.”

 

One glance at Ignis was enough to tell Noctis the adviser would rather swallow nails. His eyes positively flaming, Ignis glared at the phone with the fire of the very sun as the voice spoke, 

 

“Fine. If you refuse to talk to me, perhaps you’ll talk to your friend.” 

 

There was a pause, then a jolty yelp. Something incomprehensible was being muttered farther away from the microphone, before another voice spoke. Morphed, but they could guess whom that voice belonged to:

 

“Ignis…? H-hey. It’d be super awesome if you could...say hi.” Shaky. Frightened. The men exchanged a shocked look.

 

Prompto’s breath hitched with a held-back whimper. “Ignis…!” He was speaking through grit teeth.

 

Looking like he was ready to breathe fire, Ignis almost spat, “Hello.”

 

There was a distant gasp of relief before the kidnapper spoke. “Ah, Master Scientia. How nice of you to join us. Now that the three of you are done catching up, allow me to get to the point.”

 

“What the hell do you want?!” Noctis snapped.

 

The voice had the audacity to chuckle. “Patience, Your Highness. I was getting to that.” The speaker held a short pause. “Simply put, we want money.”

 

The men shared a doubtful look.

 

“Now, this doesn’t have to get ugly. You give us what we want, we give you what you want.”

 

Noctis was about to spit something sharp, but Ignis cut in. “State your terms,” he forced the professional tone. There was a brief silence.

 

“Eight hundred thousand Gil, in cash.”

 

Fuming, Noctis mouthed the number. Eight hundred thousand?! Mercifully, the prince kept quiet this time, though, as the voice continued,

 

“I will contact you with the drop-off instructions at exactly 8 pm tomorrow. You have 26 hours.” As if to add insult to injury, he added, “You try to contact us unauthorized, Prompto suffers. You try to find us, Prompto dies. You fail to answer the call, Prompto dies. I’m sure I don’t need to go into specifics what will happen if we don’t get the money.”

 

Before Noctis had time to erupt, the hollow ‘clunk’ at the other end left them with static.

 

Noctis slumped against the backseat with a roar. “What the fuck?!” He swept a palm down his face. “Shit…!”

 

Ignis had withdrawn. Arms crossed, he leaned against the car next to the open door. “We need to inform the court of this posthaste.” His calmness was a fraud. A facade the man forced - to protect something, Noct presumed. Be it him, or himself, he didn’t care. He appreciated the effort.

 

Too bad it brought him little comfort at the time.

 

If they failed to do exactly as these fuckers told, Prompto would die.

 

What was he doing, trying to stomach that?

 

With a deep sigh, Ignis settled back onto the driver’s seat, but didn’t pull on the move.

 

“Noct…”

 

“I know-”

 

“No, you don’t! We have a situation at our hands, Noct. They’re counting on us to solve this.  _ Prompto _ is counting on us to solve this!”

 

Shocked, the prince stared at the adviser like he had just physically slapped him. Rage bubbled in him again, and he wanted to explode at Ignis - but what good would that do? Ignis was right. Of course Ignis was right. This wasn’t about him. This wasn’t about Prompto, either. It was something grander. These people, they knew what they were doing. They were ruthless, and dangerous, and they had got too close already. This was about all of them. He couldn’t do this alone.

 

Taking a deep breath, the prince spoke lowly, “Let’s get out of here.” He didn’t want to spend another minute in this place. The car, the street, everything was crumbling down on top of him. As Ignis pulled back onto the driveway, and soon began to speak on the phone in a low voice, Noctis let his mind wander. Back to Prompto, who was being held a prisoner somewhere, hurt and fearing for his life.

 

‘Don’t worry, Prompto,’ he sent out a silent prayer. ‘We'll get you out of there. I promise you’ll be alright!’

 

And then…

 

And then, Noctis was going to skin the bastards who had dared to do this.


	2. Leverage 1/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for bearing with me, I know it's been ages since the first chapter, but hopefully I'll get the next updates out with a bit more reasonable schedule. I'll have to see how it goes.  
> Things start to heat up when the kidnappers get their hands on the sunshine boy, and it's all gonna go downhill from there.
> 
> A huge thank you to my betas, the Big ELs - Elillierose and starting from chapter two, Ellay_gee. 
> 
> Enjoy! And feel free to come say hi on [Tumblr](https://markofthemoros.tumblr.com) My name there's markofthemoros

2 - Leverage 1/2

 

Energetic rock riffs flowed from his radio -an oldie but goodie- and Prompto thrummed the air guitar to the intro, jamming to the music.

 

“All the...small things-” he broke into singing as he finished buttoning his shirt and went to try and rake his hair into a more ruly composition. 

 

“True care...truth brings. I’ll take one lift, your ride...best trip!” His comb substituted for a makeshift microphone as Prompto sang his heart out, his morning preps suddenly all but forgotten.

 

“Always...I know, you’ll be at my show.” He and Noct always used to mime the actions; this time was no different. “Watching, waiting, commiserating.” Chuckling to himself, he finished with his hair. A quick once over, satisfied, and Prompto went into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

 

_ ‘Say it ain’t so, I will not go turn the lights off, carry me home-’ _

 

Even as he was brushing, he kept humming to the song.

 

“Say it ain’t so, I will not go turn the lights off, carry me home!” Prompto pointed his forefinger at his reflection as he directed the lyrics to his image.

 

_ ‘Keep your head still, I’ll be your thrill _ _   
_ _ The night will go on, the night will go on _

_ My little windmill’ _

 

Finished, Prompto gave his hair one last finishing touch before nodding to mirror Prompto, offering his double a small grin. The next song had come on. Humming the tune, the boy grabbed his uniform jacket and, after making sure he had everything he needed for school, flicked the music off. He was out of the door in a few long strides.

 

“I’m leaving…” he half-muttered to the empty entrance hall. He didn’t even know why he kept saying that. Prompto had learned not to expect an answer. His parents always left before him, and they’d be back late in the evening. If they were coming back, that is. His father hadn’t been home for the past two nights, and his mother had said maybe the grand total of ten words to her son over that time, most of which consisted of ‘there’s food in the fridge’. Sighing, Prompto pushed the door shut behind him, eyes on the ground.

 

The last of the dew still glimmered in the morning sun as he locked the door and set off for his destination. The streets were mostly empty, save for the elderly couple living next door. The pair were having their morning tea on the veranda. Prompto waved them a greeting as his steps almost automatically sped up into a leisurely jog. 

 

His neighborhood was a quiet one; nothing ever happened in this part of the city. The most disturbance the area ever saw were the occasional raccoons finding a dumpster to feast on. Unassuming, if one were to describe it.

 

Perhaps that’s why Prompto never paid attention to the row of parked cars by the side of the road as he passed them by.

 

Perhaps he should have.

 

Perhaps then he would have noticed that in the red SUV, sat a man. And that as he passed the car, the man got out, and started after him.

 

Prompto was maybe four blocks from his home when he first heard the rapidly approaching revving of a car. The noise came from nearby, was it the next street? Prompto’s brows furrowed. “The hell…?”

 

The sounds were coming closer.

 

Prompto let out an angry bark as a  car sped towards him on the narrow street. He scampered back just as the car screeched to a halt right in front of him. There was barely two feet between his nose and the polished black metal.

 

“Hey! Watch it! You could’ve-”

 

His sentence was interrupted as something heavy slammed into his back. The force of it was enough to send him flailing. It didn’t register when someone grabbed him, but the next thing he knew, he was being shoved against the car roughly.

 

The impact knocked the air out of him a little. Slightly disoriented, he was gasping for breath, but the weight on his back pressed his chest tightly against the metal, making breathing difficult.

 

“H-hey! What’re you- mmmph?! Mmmph!” A surge of panic splayed his eyes wide as the hand clasped over his nose and mouth pressed down harder, robbing him of air. Instinctively, he tried to pry the offending limb away, and for a second he managed to tear it off to gasp in some much needed air. 

 

“Help-!”

 

Someone gripped his hair and smashed his face into the metal. The initial impact left him dizzy with the burning scrape on his forehead. He wasn’t given any reprieve; his face met the metal again, tearing a pained moan from his throat. Prompto had gone limp in the arms that had now wrapped around his waist like a lasso.

 

His vision swam with the sudden pain and dizziness. He only managed a small, protesting sound when the hand came back over his face, and clamped down. Wild, animalistic fear rushed through him again. Instincts had him thrashing as he started suffocating. But weak with the disorientation, his fight was feeble and quickly wrung out of him as the vice grip around his body tightened. He was moaning into the flesh, wordless cries as his head spun. The blackness loomed at the edges of his vision, his struggles got weaker and weaker as his lungs came alive with the burning demand for air. 

 

Prompto wanted to scream at his body to get up and keep fighting even when the death-like fatigue spread into his limbs. Starting from the fingers and toes up, it was like his limbs had turned to lead, and as much as his swirling mind still tried to coax them to move, he was going still in the arms that now supported his fainting weight. The ache in his chest was fading out as his eyelids drooped, leaden like the rest of him, as Prompto’s rebellious mind was snuffed out. The last he knew before the darkness took him was a dark, splotchy figure rising from the car and two voices talking. There, his eyelids lost the battle with gravity.

 

* * *

 

Rumbling.

 

That’s so loud.

 

It hurt.

 

And why was everything trembling? He was nauseous.

 

Stop it.

 

With a throaty groan, Prompto shifted around a bit. There was an instant sting on his wrist at the pull. “Ugh…” The blue eyes cracked open, to look at darkness, and he gasped.

 

“Ugh?!” Now instantly awake, the earlier panic flooding back, and his initial reaction was to move. A bad idea, as the sudden but fleeting pain grazed his wrists again. “Gh!” He tried again, more carefully, only to still with a deep-rooted fear now creeping into his core as his hands remained confined behind his back lest he wanted to irritate the sting there any further.

 

His head was throbbing, a warmness there that didn’t feel right. His world was turning slowly, spiraling to the left. Groaning, he laid his head down, to try to anchor it from carouselling, but the constant trembling was making it difficult. His stomach turned viciously and he gagged lightly, trying to hold back the nausea as his eyes moved in the darkness.

 

There wasn’t even a sliver of light. His breaths quickly turned into light pants. He was lying on his side, and there was the constant trembling. This rumble too…

 

Prompto’s blood ran cold as he added that up.

 

Groaning, the boy tried to wriggle his hands again. Gritting his teeth against the burning, he struggled, but was forced to give up when the bindings only dug deeper into his flesh at each twist. His gaze went around the darkness near frantically - something, even a glimpse, anything! 

 

There was nothing. Prompto shifted around, only to feel the closeness of the wall at his back, the top of his head brushing against something else. Everything was trembling.

 

The initial panic had him thrashing. The walls were closing in on him. He was gasping for air. The primal urge to run had his blood thumping in his ears as the bindings burned his wrists. The air was running out. He was suffocating!

 

“Let me out of here!”

 

It hurt! His side, his head, his arms...hurt.

 

His chest burned. The vertigo was back with a vengeance, and the boy curled in on himself with a small whimper as the bile threatened to rise into his throat again. His head spun, the constant, unkind tremors now like a horseback ride as he could feel himself swaying.

 

He was going to be sick.

 

The air was pressing down on him. His panting was hot and heavy in his ears; Prompto was hyperventilating. The oblivion teased his mind now instead of his vision. Squeezing his eyes shut against the dizziness, the blond pressed his chin to his chest.

 

“Help me,” was whispered into the darkness. It wouldn’t have made it past the roar of the engine anyway.

 

* * *

 

The trembling had got worse in the past few minutes. Like the road was in lousy condition. Prompto’s eyes were squeezed shut. Not that it made any real difference, but it helped with the nausea.

 

He’d rather have the darkness of his own volition if he had to choose.

 

The small breaths the sole thing he focused on, the boy laid limp on the rough bedding. He might have fainted a little, Prompto didn’t know. It was all so hazy. Just the tremors - and the ache.

 

He whimpered as the car hit a bump; his stomach lurched. Gritting his teeth to fight back the discomfort, the blond drew in small breaths through his nose.

 

What was happening? Where were they even going?

 

And why him?

 

Prompto had to will those thoughts away. He didn’t dare to venture there, not now, or it might trigger another panic attack. He breathed deep, and focused on counting his breaths out loud. He couldn’t afford to lose it. Whatever this was, when they eventually would arrive to wherever the hell it was they were taking him, he needed to be ready.

 

And as it seemed, the when would be sooner than later. They were slowing down, the tremors eased out as the car slid to a halt and the engine was killed.

 

His heart thrummed as the doors were opened, then slammed shut. There were steps outside, coming his way. His gaze followed the sounds in the darkness. When they stopped just outside, the young man gulped, torn inside. Part of him was scared. Scared of what was going on, what he would find when the hatch opened - but oh gods just please open it up already! He couldn’t take this anymore. The metal dug into his skin, he just wanted to get out-!

 

There was a clunk, and Prompto immediately squeezed his eyes shut as the too bright -angry, searing- light flooded in. Colors danced behind his eyelids, and little by little he cracked his eyes open again to look at the dark form looming over him.

 

“The kid’s awake,” the raspy voice sounded mildly surprised.

 

What’s that supposed to mean? Prompto didn’t care. Just get him out of here already!

 

“There, use that,” another voice replied almost disinterestedly.

 

There was a sound of rustling, and Prompto wanted to cry as the plastic bag was entered into his field of vision. Panic unlike any he had ever known rushed through him in a gush of adrenaline as the form bent down. He was thrashing, trying to escape, but despite his protests and pleas, the bag was still slid over his head, and tied below his chin.

 

Losing his cool, unintelligent sounds of discomfort rained down from his lips as he tried to wriggle the bag off. The plastic stuck onto his sweat-sheened skin, and he tried to shake his head to break the contact, but it would only stick again. He was grabbed roughly and hauled out from the trunk. Carelessly enough for his knee to hit the edge, pain flaring up and down his leg.

 

Prompto wasn’t ready when he was shoved forward. “Walk!” He almost lost his footing, but managed to stay on his feet as he stumbled forward blindly. He was gasping, the plastic sticking to his face on every shuddery intake. The dizziness was rushing in fast again. A small whimper built up in his throat.

 

There were hands upon him, slid beneath his arms, the action pulling on his wrists. Seeing no other way, Prompto surrendered himself to be walked, all the while drawing in small, light puffs, trying to focus solely on that, and block out everything else. 

 

The light diminished suddenly, and the air against his skin felt a bit cooler. As he trampled forward, there were sounds like glass being crushed beneath his shoes. There was a slight height difference beneath his shoe, something elevated from the ground, and his steps careful, he crossed a threshold into cooler air.

 

Prompto was left gasping greedily when the bag was finally pulled off. Only after the third inhale did he raise his eyes to meet the man sneering down at him.

 

The man looked around 35. His long brown hair was tied into a ponytail, the style highlighting the high cheekbones and the sharp jaw. There was something wild in the hazel eyes that were narrowed into jestery slits. He was wearing an expensive-looking button-up shirt, which complemented his slender build.

 

“Prompto Argentum,” he mused. He didn't look like his voice. Or, on the contrary, he just might have. Velvety, yet deep. Suave, and deadly.

 

“Would you like a seat?” He nodded towards a simple chair sitting next to the blond.

 

“I’d rather stand, thanks,” Prompto bit back, jerking against the hold a little.

 

“I said sit down.” There was a pressure in the back of his knee, and the blond crumpled. He was pushed into the chair and, despite his struggles, his hands were pinned behind the backrest, and a hefty rope came around his chest. All the while, the brunet stood watching him, his arms crossed over his chest and an eerily pleased expression on his face as he took in Prompto’s twitching.

 

The other man stepped out from behind him, too. This one almost a head shorter than his friend (still taller than Prompto), he had a lean build, but the clearly defined muscles stood out beneath his long-sleeved shirt. His brown hair was shaved at the sides, leaving a tuft on the top. The shorter man paid no more heed to the boy as he passed them by, and headed deeper into the space, to talk to a third man that was setting up some cables onto what looked like a TV set and some sort of a signal transporter. A router perhaps? It was difficult to tell from this far.

 

Only now did Prompto come to take a better look around, too. The space was a single room, but there were doors leading to what he presumed were bathrooms and storage. The walls were solid concrete, the dirty windows were barricaded with planks from the inside, only allowing little light through. The worn-out Coernix logo painted onto the wall had been redecorated with numerous layers of graffiti. 

 

This place had been abandoned for a long while. Prompto’s jaw slacked as he took note of the old counter that had long since lost the saloon doors leading to the cashier’s side. One half hung sadly from its hinges, the story doesn’t tell what became of the other one.

 

The tall man took a chair and sat himself before Prompto . His fingers forming a triangle beneath his chin, the man supported his elbows on his thighs as he leaned forward, studying the boy. The way the eyes roamed his body was less to Prompto’s liking. It was somehow esurient. He struggled again.

 

“Who are you people?” Prompto grunted.

 

Blinking, the man straightened up to lean casually against the backrest. “You don’t need to worry your pretty little head with that. Although, if it helps, you can call me Viper.”

 

“Isn’t that a bit theatrical?” Prompto snorted.

 

Viper seemed amused by his taunt, however. “Rather loud-mouthed, aren’t you? I think you just hurt my feelings,” he brought a hand over his chest mockingly.

 

“What do you want with me?” Prompto glared at him.

 

The smile cooling a good few degrees, Viper reached into his pocket - and pulled out Prompto’s phone. On the screen, a chocobo figure was holding an envelope in its beak, the sender’s name making Prompto’s heart skip a beat.

 

Noct.

 

Of course…

 

“Now, I understand that you are in rather friendly terms with the prince.”

 

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” Prompto snorted angrily. 

 

The rise of the neat eyebrows screamed, Really? “Oh? But it would seem that this ‘Noct’ is an acquaintance. See what he wrote? ‘Prom. Where are you, man?’ Sounds rather fond to me.”

 

“Noct’s just a name. So what if someone has a similar name to the prince.”

 

The strike came swift and painful. Prompto’s left cheek was on fire as the friction raked into his  skin. His hair was gripped, head pulled back. “Now, my boy, you’re not just being rude, you’re flat-out lying,” was hissed into his face. “And you should know, I do not like being lied to. And I will  _ always  _ find out if you’re not telling me the truth. You had better keep that in mind.”

 

It was disgusting. The scent of this man’s cologne way too close, the ripples of panic again pooled in his gut as his personal space was breached. “G-get off me!” Against his better judgment, Prompto kicked the man’s shin as hard as he could. There was a yelp of rage, and the grip disappeared. Prompto smirked triumphantly.

 

His victory was short-lived, though, as Viper’s now blazing eyes met his again. Suddenly, Prompto wanted to apologize, to explain, to honest to god beg if only it could have made up for his mistake. “Why, you little...!” There was a cracking sound, and Prompto cried a strangled cry, turned into gurgling by his now broken nose.

 

His head was pulled back again, almost far enough to cut his airway. “I suggest never doing that again,” Viper hissed. “Or you might find that not only am I a man who doesn’t like having to repeat himself, I also excel in causing pain beyond any you can ever imagine. And lest you want to test that out, you won’t be getting any clever ideas from here on, is this understood?!”

 

Gasping for air, Prompto nodded what little he could, and the grip was released. Viper sat back onto his chair, arms and legs crossed, a finger tapping his upper arm irritably. “Now look at what you’ve made me do…”

 

Prompto didn’t. He was barely hearing. Panting through his mouth, he hung his head, blood dripping from his nose onto his lap. Still, or perhaps because of his moment of delusion, what came out of his mouth was raspy and small, but it was still undeniably identifiable as laughter. 

 

“I’m...not telling you guys anything.”

 

There was a brief silence, and Prompto was already waiting for another strike, another jab of pain. Because it would make sense, wouldn’t it? If he was to be interrogated, these men would surely try to beat the answers out of him. Prompto watched TV. This is how these things always went. The whole pumping him for information routine. The kidnaps and...and the torture…

 

He knew how these things went.

 

But the pain never came. Instead, there was a stifled chuckle. Prompto’s confusion was voiced in a small sound.

 

“Now, don’t look so surprised. You see, my dear boy, we don’t need anything from  _ you _ ,” Viper shook his head, his shoulders shaking a little with contained chuckles.

 

His teeth grit at the insinuation. He wasn’t being questioned? That didn’t add up. “Then why am I here? What do you guys want with me?”

 

Viper didn’t answer. Instead, he rose to retrieve something from the countertop -another phone- and tapped on it almost disinterestedly before his expression brightened up as he struck gold. “The real question is, what does  _ he  _ want with you?”

 

He showed him the screen, a photo. Of him and Noctis, his arm wrapped around the raven’s shoulders, the prince looking away and scratching the back of his neck like he always did when he was embarrassed. 

 

Prompto knew that look. 

 

He had been the cause of that look.

 

“No more games, Mister Best Friend of the Prince.”

 

Prompto could have sworn it was winter, even though the trees were in full bloom outside. With the way his insides turned to ice, it couldn’t possibly be anything but.

 

“Now, how much would you  _ value _ your friendship with Prince Noctis?”


	3. Leverage 2/2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up for Prompto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me ridiculously long to get the second half done! I spent two weeks on this alone, I think. I just couldn't get it right until finally!  
> I hope it satisfies. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Beta read by [Elillierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elillierose/pseuds/Elillierose) and [Ellay_gee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellay_gee/pseuds/ellay_gee) \- you guys are awesome!

3 - Leverage 2/2

 

“S-say what?!” Prompto’s eyes had widened. “Value…?”

 

Bemusement dancing in his expression, Viper laughed softly. “Come now, Prompto. You're not this thick. Surely you must know what this is about.”

 

Prompto gulped quietly. He pulled against the bindings again, but only half-heartedly. He knew better than to expect them to budge - but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

 

Viper’s smile sharpened a fraction as he watched how understanding dawned in the boy’s eyes. His struggles were...if not quite adorable, then at least pleasing. Yes, that’s a good word for it. It pleased him to see his fight, to see him revel in the illusion of resistance.

 

There was nothing quite like watching that resistance shatter, after all.

 

“I see you understand,” he nodded to the boy.

 

“Nah, it’s you who needs to understand, pal. Hate to break it to you, but you’ve got the wrong guy,” Prompto all but snorted, jerking in his bindings. “We’re not even that close. I’m nothing of a leverage.”

 

“This again?” amusement dropped from the tall man’s tone. “Please, we both know that’s a lie. And what did I just say about lying, hm?” Prompto couldn’t quite suppress the gulp as he watched how the man’s slender fingers curled into a fist. And yet he insisted:

 

“It’s true! We’re just classmates, that’s it. Noct...His Highness, he’s the class rep, that’s why he was asking after me. We hang out sometimes after school, but it’s not like we’re close or anything!”

 

Relaxing against the backrest, Viper reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He popped one, then went for the lighter. “Really?”

 

How Prompto loathed that despicable amusement in that voice!

 

“Yeah, really! I mean, look at me! Do I look like the best friend material for a prince to you? So yeah, sorry but you’ve got the wrong guy-”

 

Prompto’s tirade disappeared into a cry as Viper backhanded him. The lash scraped his swelling nose, fresh pain searing his face. Before the boy had time to gather his bearings, his hair was gripped again.

 

There was a terrible ‘scrahh’ sound, and, to Prompto’s horror, a hot sensation beneath his chin. Too hot. He tried to yank his head away, but it was held firmly in place as the heat became burning.

 

Cigarette smoke clung to the tall man as he leaned closer. “If that’s the case, then you’re of no use to me,” Viper mused lowly. “I’ll kill you right now, and the last thing you’ll see is your own blood gushing over me. Is that what I should do?” He brought the flame close, and Prompto grit his teeth against a whimper.

 

“N-no...”

 

“I thought so. Now, you’d do well to shut up. This isn’t about you.”

 

The flame was gone, but Prompto barely had time to choke out a relieved breath before the next punch landed. Stars exploded behind his vision as his head was thrown to the side. Stilling just enough to hang his head limply, Prompto drew in ragged breaths. His skin stung where the flame had licked too close, and his left cheek was becoming a numb mess of ache. Dark blotches swam across his vision. The scent of copper hit his nose.

 

Viper eyed him condescendingly. The kid only looked like he’d given in. His shoulders were shaking, and he could hear him breathing through clenched teeth.

 

Brave, this one. Brave, but foolish.

 

“You guys...aren’t gonna get away with this,” Prompto uttered, his face hidden behind the golden strands, but his voice betrayed excruciating pain.

 

The neat eyebrows rose. “Oh? You seem confident all of a sudden. But didn’t you just insist on being a nobody?” Viper had the nerve to chuckle. “You weren’t _lying_ to me, were you?” He crossed his arms over his chest loosely, taking a lazy drag of his cigarette.

 

Prompto’s throat stung. Daring a glare at the obnoxiously at-ease man, he rasped out, “F-fuck you.”

 

Viper’s face didn’t even flinch at the sass. He simply stared at him, coolly, distantly. Then he elegantly rose and closed the distance between them. Prompto tried to shrink away from the touch as the man slowly slid off his necktie and opened the three top-most buttons of his shirt.

 

“Charming.” The man didn’t sound charmed. “You’ll find out, though,” slender fingers dug into Prompto’s cheeks, forcing his jaw open. Then, he stuffed the necktie into his mouth and inhaled another hefty dose of smoke, “-that we can be _very_ persuasive.”

 

Prompto screamed into the gag when Viper pressed the glowing end of the cigarette into his skin.

 

“I’m certain that once the prince learns about your...situation, he will be most co-operative. That is, if he values the well-being of his _best_ _friend_.”

 

Prompto’s cry died down into a muffled whimper. Breathing heavily through his mangled nose, the boy fought the bile at the smell of his own flesh burning; the disgusting mix of tobacco smoke and something like roasting meat but saltier, more pungent. Reeling with the shock and pain, Viper’s words were almost lost to him, but Prompto didn’t need to hear to know. It was exactly as he had feared. He _was_ leverage. Somehow, that thought was what made his situation all but unbearable. He didn’t know what was going on, only that he wanted no part in it! When the man reached for him again, Prompto wanted to run. Muttering into the fabric, he squirmed in his chair as the duct tape was splayed over his mouth.

 

“Now, be a good boy and sit tight.”

 

* * *

 

Prompto hadn’t known anything _could_ tear into him quite like the all too familiar chocobo theme ringtone. He gulped, a dry motion, the sickeningly smooth cloth in his mouth having absorbed all the moisture long ago.

 

Something inside Prompto soared at hearing how _dedicatedly_ (Prompto refused to use the word desperate) Noct tried and tried to get ahold of him. It brought him some comfort at least. To know that he wasn’t completely alone in this nightmare.

 

And yet an equally loud voice screamed for it to stop. Because it was only playing into _their_ hands. The _glee_ on these men’s faces as they let Noct’s call again go into the voicemail...it was disgusting. The last thing Prompto wanted was to make this easier for them.

 

These men...they were professionals, there was no doubt about it. Their gear - military grade if Prompto had to guess. Fresh from the black market; no-one would get their hands on something like that legally. And although the personalities and mannerisms differed, each of them gave off the same ill vibe. An aura of a killer.

 

Viper. He was ruthless, that much was obvious to Prompto. His face still throbbed, although the most intense pain had ebbed away. Viper must have been the brains of the business, for the other men seemed to check in with him at irregular intervals. The shaved sides brunet who had tied him earlier, he hadn’t said a word to him since. The guy seemed to keep to himself a lot, he only talked to the others when he had to. But the few times Prompto had caught the brunet watching him had made his insides crawl. Those eyes - so cold, so unkind. Prompto was less than air to that guy - he eyed him like he was already dead.

 

Prompto’s teeth grit at the mental image. What did these men want with him? It had to do with Noct, Viper had been crystal-clear about that. But what was it? Political pressuring? A prisoner exchange? Money? It pained him that he didn’t know.

 

A part of him -that same part that wished Noct would stop calling- was losing hope. Perhaps it was better if...if they just forgot about him? Whatever these men were bargaining him for, Prompto wasn’t sure he was worth it. These were hardcore criminals. Who was to say that, even if they did get what they wanted, they’d let him go? Prompto gulped. With the way Shaved Sides was looking at him, he wasn’t so sure about that. He wasn’t sure about that at all.

 

What if they were using him to get to Noct, or even the king? If anything happened to them because of him, Prompto would never be able to forgive himself. And the court wouldn’t let that happen, either. They wouldn’t dance to these men’s vile tune at a risk to the royal family, even if-

 

Even if it meant that Prompto would die.

 

The thought chilled him. And at the same time, he understood perfectly. Prompto was expendable. He was a commoner and a nobody. He was insignificant to anyone if not a friend of Noctis’s. He would mean nothing if the other option would impose a risk to the throne. Collateral damage, that’s all he was. A regrettable sacrifice they’d have to make.

 

Prompto’s stomach churned, his eyes squeezed shut. It was the first time the thought of dying like this really entered his mind, and panic was rising up his throat in dark tendrils. He didn’t want to die! Not yet, he was far too young! He had things to do, things to experience, he...he simply couldn’t, not yet...!

 

He was shaking. Breathing intermittently through his nose, Prompto forced himself to calm down before he would have another panic attack. Panicking wouldn’t help. He needed to stay calm. Just breathe. In, out, in, out. Eventually, his shoulders relaxed a little, his pulse calming down.

 

He couldn’t give up.

 

He was still alive, wasn’t he?

 

Prompto reminded himself that these men needed him. For now, he could rest easier. Whatever it was that these men wanted, they hadn’t got it yet, they _needed him_. As long as they needed him, they’d keep him around at least. They had no reason to kill him, Prompto tried to reassure himself. He was no threat. There was nothing the blond could do to threaten them. A voice in his head reminded him that there was nothing he could do to stop them, either, but Prompto shoved those thoughts from his mind. They were not helping.

 

‘Focus, Prompto. Play time.’ As long as there was a chance, he couldn’t waste it. The longer he managed to hold on, the better chance there was that someone would find them.

 

Someone _would_ come for them, right? Surely, when Noct learned about this, someone would come looking. Prompto would just have to hold on until then.

 

His train of thought derailed into a brick wall as the tall man stepped close to him. Viper’s expression was unreadable as he gazed down at the bound boy.

 

Prompto winced as his chin was gripped roughly. Tracing his thumb over the duct tape, Viper treasured the shivering beneath his fingers. “You want this gone, don’t you.” A statement, not a question. Prompto’s reply was a throaty ‘mm-hmph’ and a twitch that would have been a nod. The cold gaze of the hazel seemed to impale him, to try and look directly into his soul before the man pulled the tape off in one swift motion.

 

The necktie was soon to follow. Prompto’s mouth was a desert as he coughed against the feel of parched leather in his mouth. The jerky motions agitated his smashed nose, the sharp pain radiating across his face in hot waves. Too soon, fingers clutched his chin again, and Viper bent closer. “Now, my boy, you’ll tell your friend that you’re alright and that there’s no need for him to worry his princely little head about you.”

 

He brought a phone into Prompto’s field of vision, and the blond had a second to glance at the exchange on the screen. A second to make up his mind. Then, his lips pursed into a thin line with a defiant glare.

 

Prompto cried out when the fist collided with the already bruised side of his face. Viper beat him And beat him. The burning on his face became blinding, his strength was draining rapidly as agony clouded his mind. His senses were shutting down until all that was left was that incessant ringing. That ringing and the fire. Prompto went limp as he started fading. He let his head loll when he couldn’t bring himself to hold it up anymore.

 

His stomach lurched as Viper yanked his face closer. The glazed-over blues wandered deliriously behind the half-closed lids for a moment before sentience slowly returned to them, and the sky eyes turned to look at his tormentor. “While I admire your resilience, my boy, I suggest not playing with me. This can be _every bit_ as painful as you choose to make it, you know. So if you insist on being difficult, by all means, amuse me. Let’s see how long you’ll hold on. ...Oh, what’s that? No?” he almost cooed at the terrified look and the small head shake the boy gave. “Well then, do I have to repeat myself?”

 

“N-no, I-I get it” Prompto gasped out. He let out a sound of discomfort as the fingers dug into his skin before Viper released him with a shove.

 

“Now,” Viper demanded as he thrust the phone to his face. Panting heavily, Prompto glared at the red dot indicating recording, wanting to bite the hand holding the device, but the searing pain on his face was enough to convince him otherwise. Hating himself, he rasped out:

 

“Noct? ...I’m fine...no need to...worry about me.” It hurt to speak. Another coughing fit seized him as his sore throat was irritated. It wasn’t enough to mask Viper’s triumphant snort, however. Prompto’s teeth grit with frustration. Dammit, Noct, he was sorry! He-

 

Prompto’s phone vibrated on the table, the notes of the chocobo theme ringing out again. A surprised silence befell the room, until Viper chuckled, “A real live firecracker, isn’t he…?” The hazel eyes visited Prompto - and a newly found panic, that of a prey animal when it finds itself being targeted by the predator, engulfed him at the dark excitement in that gaze.

 

“Javier,” the tall man spoke the one-word order, nodding his head towards the bound boy. The shorter brunet only snorted as he came closer. Prompto’s eyes widened.

 

“What’re you doing?” he demanded warily. Instincts had him struggling. His wrists protested viciously, but Prompto couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

Viper smiled him a cold smile. “Well now, it appears we are in position to prove ourselves a point.” He exchanged a wicked look with Javier, both men sneering at him before the brunet came to stand behind him.

 

Trying to turn to look over his shoulder, Prompto squirmed in his bindings, a hysterical note appearing in his voice, “But I did what you wanted! What’re you-?!”

 

“Yes, indeed. But it seems your dear friend, the prince, isn’t being as obedient.”

 

Prompto’s heart stopped as the fore and the middle finger of his right hand were grabbed tightly. “No...nono...no...no, you don’t need to-” he pleaded.

 

The chocobo ringtone disappeared under his cry of anguish as his entire arm came alive with agony.

 

It was overwhelming. He was sure he was going to faint. The reverberations in his throat turned to hissing through grit teeth, a pitiful attempt to ride out the worst of it. In his ears, the insufferable ringing bore into his consciousness like hot needles.

 

The shutter sound was almost lost to him. Prompto only realized that his eyes had squeezed shut when he cracked them open, to witness Viper tapping the phone again. “W-why?” It was pathetic and it was small. It went ignored. He tried again. “Why are you doin’ this?”

 

Viper eyed him calmly, but it was that of the mid-winter. A chill that creeps into your bones and stays there, frost in the form of a facial expression. “I recall stating that this isn’t about you. You are a means to an end, and I wouldn’t elevate myself to anything above that if I were you.” The man checked his wristwatch before bringing the phone up to his ear. “Now keep quiet.”

 

Prompto’s breath hitched when a hand was again splayed over his mouth. His nostrils flared, and he whimpered into the palm as he struggled to breathe. Moisture was prickling in the corners of his eyes. He tried to jerk himself free, but was weak and pretty much pointless, and over much too soon as the hand pressed down harder.

 

The hazel gaze on his captive, Viper listened to the dial tone. The thin lips tugged up at the corner when the call was promptly answered. “Put it on the speaker.” The pleased look spread a fraction, seeping into his voice tauntingly. “Excellent. See, Your Highness, you can be reasonable.”

 

“Mmph?!” Prompto muttered into the hand. ‘Noct...!’

 

Viper’s voice was pure venom as he practically purred, “Now, I’m assuming young Master Scientia is there with you. Say hello, Ignis.”

 

Perhaps the reply wasn’t exactly what the man had wished to hear, for the pleased demeanor melted from his face. Twisting into something more sinister again, the sharp gaze locked onto Prompto. Viper’s tone was carefully controlled when he spoke, “Fine. If you refuse to talk to me, perhaps you’ll talk to your friend.”

 

The sky eyes widened when Viper took out the gun. His heart racing, Prompto tensed as the man stepped closer.

 

His eyes squeezed shut with a soft whine as the cold kiss of the metal brushed down his cheek. It came to rest beneath his chin, the upward motion forcing him to meet the man’s eyes. “Your friend is quite impolite,” Viper mused with mock hurt in his voice.

 

“Hmmh?!”

 

“If you would be _so kind_ as to ask young Ignis Scientia here to say ‘hello’.”

 

Prompto’s mouth was released just in time for the blond to let out an uncalled for yelp when the gun barrel was pressed against his kneecap. Jerking against his bindings, Prompto’s breaths became raggedy hisses drawn through grit teeth as the phone was shoved close to him.

 

Eyes darting on and off the gun wildly, he uttered, voice shaking, “Ignis…? H-hey. It’d be super awesome if you could...say hi.”

 

Prompto’s lip quivered, heart thundered in his chest at the doomsday silence at the other end of the line. Had Ignis heard him? Was he even there?! His breath hitched as the hammer of the gun was pulled back. “Ignis…!”

 

He let out a gasp of relief as the audibly pissed voice of the adviser spat out a clipped greeting. Prompto could have kissed the man when the hammer was uncocked and the gun withdrawn. His ease was short-lived, though, as Javier crouched to the ground to pick up the discarded necktie. Harsh fingers pried Prompto’s jaws open and the man mercilessly stuffed the soiled cloth back into his mouth. Protesting wildly, the boy gagged and mumbled into the rag as the foul taste of earth and dirt coated his tongue.

 

His tormentors paid the boy no more heed. Smirking gleefully, Viper went back to his phone call, “Ah, Master Scientia. How nice of you to join us. Now that the three of you are done catching up, allow me to get to the point.” Whatever was said next must have amused him, for he chuckled heartily. “Patience, Your Highness. I was getting to that.”

 

Patience. Well there was a word not best suited for Noct. Prompto huffed through his nose as he glared daggers at the man who was currently discussing his fate like he was talking about today’s weather.

 

His stomach dropped at the _ridiculous_ price tag these men held for his head. Eight hundred grand?! That’s more than his parents would earn in ten years! Given, the royal family weren’t exactly short of cash, but that was still a huge pile of money, and Prompto’s insides turned to ice.

 

Was he worth _almost a million_ Gil? To Noct? To anyone?

 

“Now, this doesn’t have to get ugly. You give us what we want, we give you what you want.” That right there, pal, that’s a goddamn lie. This had already got ugly. And Prompto feared to find out how much worse this was doing to get before it was over.

 

He wouldn’t have needed to hear what would happen if their conditions weren’t met. He could have done without knowing the details of what would happen to him. Prompto had had a hunch. He would have wanted to keep it that way. His teeth clamped down onto the filthy cloth as he listened to the threats on his life fall from that snake’s tongue like a fucked up newscast. Somehow, hearing them said out loud like that made them already sound like a finality. His last judgment, in a predestined make-belief race against the clock.

 

26 hours. For him, a game of death.

 

Let the dice roll.

 

Viper cut the call, and, in the distance, Prompto could have sworn he heard a church bell tolling.


	4. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Noctis is pissy and Prompto gets a brilliant idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaay, an update! Thanks for sticking with this story! It really means a lot. <3
> 
> Also. Some of you might have taken a long look at the user name posting. It is still I, (not Dio but) istoleyourcheesecake, not an alien abductee or a changeling. I just changed my name. You can find also me on Tumblr under this same name, markofthemoros.
> 
> And again, a huge thank you to my two betas, Elillierose and Ellay-gee. You guys rock and I have learned so much from you.

Chapter 4 - Best Laid Plans 

 

The bang of the heavy double doors being thrown open must have been heard on the other side of the citadel. The prince couldn’t care less for the ruckus he was making, though. Stomping down the aisle with agitated strides, Noctis’s eyes had narrowed into an ugly glare, his teeth bared in a snarl.

 

For once Ignis didn’t comment on the prince’s capricious behavior. Following not two steps behind Noctis, the adviser’s own expression was tight. On the outside, it might have looked like Ignis was only slightly irritated or nervous, but inside, the strategist was fuming. The man inhaled deep through the nose, his entire upper back tense as they crossed the grand entrance hall.

 

Noctis didn’t spare a glance at the few staff members saluting them as they passed. Ignis offered them a curt nod as an acknowledgement, but the silent fury in his gaze all but undid the favor. The servants visibly flinched at the look, and to his annoyance, Ignis heard them muttering amongst themselves. He huffed lowly; it was only a matter of time before the rumors would start spreading, too.

 

Perfect.

 

As if they needed to deal with the nosy staff and hearsay. Making a mental note to clip the wings of the rumors as soon as he would be dismissed, Ignis glanced at his young liege.

 

Noctis hadn’t said a word since he had told him to start driving, but the rage emitting from the boy clung to him like a cloud. Ignis could have sworn the air around him wafted ever so slightly. There were small crackling sounds, and Noct’s fingers twitched irritably.

 

“Noct?”

 

“What?!”

 

“Perhaps a little toning down?”

 

Bafflement visited the young man’s features as if he had only now noticed the spiraling stormfront that he had been harboring around him. Noctis clenched his fist with an irate snort, but something was clearly subdued within him, for his aura became less pressing and the surge of magic receded. Ignis shook his head. The prince would have to learn control. He wasn’t harsh enough to speak his mind, though. Instead, he forced what he hoped to be a reassuring voice as he consoled, “We’ll find him, Noct. But in the meantime, please try to hold your emotions under control.”

 

“So that I won’t give them any more reason to hurt him?” the raven spat back darkly.

 

Ignis looked appalled. “I didn’t say that.”

 

“You don’t need to.”

 

“Noct-”

 

He was interrupted when a familiar figure rounded the corner. Glaive Nyx Ulric looked like he was on hot coals as he walked briskly to meet them.

 

The man hadn’t come to reach them when Noctis already demanded, “Nyx! Tell me you’ve got something!”

 

The soldier’s eyes flicked to the side as if he was unsure whether to answer his prince’s demand or follow the protocol with an appropriate greeting. But the urgency present in the hopeful-slash-fearful look of the younger man had him wasting no time. Nyx swallowed to clear his throat before stating, as neutrally as he could muster, “Not so lucky, I’m afraid. We got his stuff from the site, but so far no eyewitnesses have reported in. The number’s a prepaid, activated two months ago.” Nyx pretended not to hear the soft sound his prince made, a desolate breath laced with moisture.

 

“Have you located the place of purchase?” Ignis cut in.

 

“Yeah. Of no use, though. A convenience store within the city, but the receipt was paid with cash two weeks prior to activation. The surveillance footage of the date has been overwritten, the store only keeps their records for 48 hours.”

 

“Can you trace it?!”

 

“The guys at the forensics are doing their best, but if the device’s GPS is turned off...” the glaive’s voice faded with a ‘tch’ and a signifying shrug.

 

“So we have nothing,” Noctis failed to keep the disappointment from his voice.

 

Nyx looked at him with underlying sympathy before lowering his eyes, “Looks like it.”

 

The raven had to suppress a rush of emotion that was rising up his throat, aching to get out. Instead he demanded, his voice clipped, “Where are they?”

 

“In His Majesty’s study, Your Highness.”

 

The words were barely out before Noctis was already moving, newly found fervor in his step. The older men exchanged a worried look as the prince barged through the next set of doors on his path before following him. The air was heavy, it hung over them like a lead haze.

 

Noctis wasted no time. He plowed his way through the citadel, haste on his heels and fear on his features. Each moment they waited -wasted on scrambling through dead leads- brought Prompto closer to the edge. Noctis wasn’t going to just let his friend suffer at the hands of these madmen, not if he had any say in it. He hesitated at the recollection of the threats on the blond’s life should anyone come look for them. But the trick was not to get caught while at it, right? This was an indirect assault on the throne, although via a pawn, but still. He’d be damned if they didn’t usher everything they had out there to find these bastards and bring Prompto back!

 

Noctis couldn’t fathom the other option.

 

The solid wood door screamed on its hinges as Noctis threw it open. “Father?!”

 

The four men in the room raised their eyes from the papers they had been studying to take note of the flustered prince standing rigid at the door. Noctis’s hands were balled into fists at his sides, his shoulders rose and fell in the rhythm of his light panting. His cheeks were reddened and he eyed them through narrow slits. Tang rose onto the men’s tongues as the whiskers of magic teased their veins.

 

The king’s brows furrowed. “Noctis.” Not quite a question, but surprised nonetheless, carrying a hint of a warning along with the invitation for them to come in. The prince hissed a ‘tch’ as he stomped farther into the room, followed closely by Nyx and Ignis, the latter offering his king a small bow as a greeting before closing the door behind them.

 

Beelining to slump into the closest chair available, Noctis didn’t bother hiding his frustration. He felt eyes on him, his father’s shield and his marshall, and the scrutiny only served to grind on his nerves more. Can’t they cut him some slack, for fuck’s sake? The way the prince averted his eyes was like a middle finger raised at the both of them.

 

The silence befalling the room was tense. Everyone avoided eye contact except for the king, whose gaze bore into his son’s temple relentlessly. There was scolding in that look, for the careless use of magic and the obnoxious behavior Noct was presenting, but it was greatly overpowered by worry and empathy which were far more apparent. If Noctis noticed it, however, he didn’t acknowledge it. The youth sat motionless, his eyes nailed onto a spot on the floor maybe five feet in front of him. His shoulders dropped lower, though, and the ethereal energy circling them diminished somewhat as he relaxed a little.

 

It went on for almost too long before Noctis broke the silence. Preceded by a deep sigh, the prince’s voice was dark with apprehension and frustration as he muttered to the floor, “So. Any bright ideas?” Leaning forward, he supported his elbows on his thighs and rested his chin on his hands.

 

His arms crossed over his chest, Gladiolus leaned against the window sill. “Well, for starters, you could stop being such a brat and cut out with the dramatics already.” Noct shot him a vehement glare.

 

“And what? Pretend like Prom isn’t out there, being tortured as we speak?!” he barked. It came out harsher than he had meant, and the judgmental furrowing of the other’s eyebrows left little to interpret.

 

“You think you’re the only one who cares about him?”

 

Noctis had been about to shoot something back at him but his mouth snapped closed, the prince looking like he had been punched into gut. Huffing irritably, Noctis slumped back to lean against the backrest, crossing his arms. He felt the judgmental gazes, but couldn’t care less what the men thought of him at the moment. “Do we have the money yet?”

 

“Noctis-” the king sighed.

 

“Do we, Dad?!” His voice tinged with poorly concealed desperation, Noctis’s eyes shone with the beginnings of moisture as he leaned forward on the chair, as if to spring forth into his father’s arms at any given moment. He longed to just forget everything and reap the comfort offered in the safety of that beloved presence, to just have his dad tell him that _it’s going to be alright_ …

 

King Regis took a breath, his eyes sliding closed, and when they opened again, it was with all the regal entitled to his throne. “No, Noctis. We don’t.” It took all his resolve not waver at the look of horror rising onto his son’s face. But before the prince had time to raise hell, his marshall cut in:

 

“We don’t have the specifics yet, Your Highness,” Cor’s voice scolding as he told him in between the lines to back off. “In any case, you’ve got to calm down. While we’re not unaware of Argentum’s situation, we’ve also got to think this through.” Noctis’s gaze went from his father to the marshall, something akin to betrayal, then frustration flashing over his face. It made his blood boil, knowing that they were about to waste even more time on pointless talks, but it looked like he had no choice. With a grunt, he settled back into the chair, averting his eyes as he crossed his arms.

 

Cor looked like he had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at the prince’s juvenile protest. With a deep inhale, he forced calmness back into his voice, “Right. According to the information relayed by Scientia, these men are well-informed of your movements, Highness. We have already tripled the security around you, but I must insist you stay at the citadel for the time being instead of your apartment.”

 

“This isn’t about me,” Noctis noted sourly.

 

“As I was saying,” Cor continued, annoyed stress in his tone, “based on those photographs, it’s likely that these kidnappers have pinpointed Argentum by monitoring you. And to not make things worse, it’s best for you not to leave the palace grounds.”

 

There was the keyword in that phrase, for Noctis’s attention snapped to the man at break-neck speed. The air heated up around him as his temper flared. “To not make things worse?!” he hissed. “Well, hate to break it to you but they’ve already got worse! He’s fuckin’ beat and probably scared out of his mind out there, and we’re wasting our time discussing what to do with _me_ !” Noctis was almost shouting. “Fuck me! We should be concerned about _him_! It’s my fault he’s in this situation in the first place! We should have the Kingsglaive out there, lookin’ for him! Doin’ something-!” he was cut off as his voice broke, disappeared into a cut-off sound that wasn’t quite a sob but was too wet to be a gasp.

 

He was trembling, his hands balled into fist. Although he hung his head, they could hear the clenching of teeth as air slithered through the cracks in sharp hisses.

 

“Noctis,” Regis consoled so softly it coaxed the boy to meet his father’s eyes immediately, and the worry and empathy in that gaze slashed at his heart. _‘You think you’re the only one who cares about him?’_ A tear broke out and slid down his cheek. “Calm down. We will find your friend, and I’ll do whatever is in my power to ensure his safety, but this conflict has more sides than just the two of you. Despite your worry for him, you are still my son and the heir to the throne, and we must make sure you’ll be safe. As for sending out the Kingsglaive, I believe the Glaive is already doing what we can, but I recall Ignis stating that the assailants have made a direct threat on your friend’s life if pursued. I’m afraid we cannot order a full-out search in case that threat is valid. I know this must be hard for you, but we must learn more about our opponent before we can plan on further counter measures.”

 

Noctis heard his father’s voice, but the words barely registered. He had done it again. Let his temper get the best of him and made himself look like an idiot in front of his father and his chairmen. With the way his father was talking to him, like a child, what would he think of him? He was the prince, dammit! He was expected to control his emotions better. And here he was. Weeping in front of his father. His chest ached.

 

As if he wasn’t disgusted with himself already.

 

Regis was kind enough not to comment on the heartbreak visible on his son’s face. Instead, he cleared his throat before turning to the marshall. “Cor, what do you think?”

 

The marshall’s arms were crossed, irritated fingers tapping his arm lightly. “Honestly? I think we’re shooting blanks at a Behemoth. The Glaives are guarding all the exits to and from the city, but I doubt they’ll just turn up at a search, they’re too well-prepared for that. Frankly, it’s likely they might have left the city already, with the time they’ve had. At this point, our best course of action is to wait for them to make a mistake.”

 

“What about the money?” The sound, quiet and given-up, could have been begging if there had been anything to beg for. It had come from the prince. Sitting with his head hung low, Noctis looked like a beaten puppy. He asked, as if afraid of the answer, “If we don’t find them, are we gonna pay for him?” He wasn’t talking about the money. He was asking if they were going to bring Prompto back.

 

The silence that ensued was a surprised one. Whether it was because of the tone so unbecoming of the egotistical marvel of a royal heir, or the grim implication weaved into the words, the men were struck speechless by the utterance until Regis broke it. He sighed, a sad smile on his lips as he nodded, “If that’s what it takes to bring him back safe and sound, yes. Yes, we will. Every penny. I promise you that.”

 

The officials, his closest friends all forgotten, Noctis leaped up from his chair. Blindly he slammed himself into his father’s chest, arms wrapping around him as the prince buried his face into his father’s robes, and let the sobs come.

 

* * *

 

“I need to use the bathroom.” Prompto might as well have been air with the response he received from the men in the room. “Seriously, I need to go,” he tried again, wriggling in his bindings a little.

 

“Shut up,” Viper didn’t raise his eyes from the newspaper he was reading.

 

“C’mon, man!” Prompto whined. “It’s been what, all day? I seriously gotta go. I’ll be peeing my pants here,” he jerked his head toward the doors leading to what he presumed to be restrooms.

 

Finally looking at the maimed youth, Viper huffed deeply and folded the paper. “Javier.” The said man grunted his affirmation from the other side of the room where he was cleaning his knife. “Take the kid to the big boys’ room. Be sure to hold his hand in case he gets a booboo.”

 

For a while, the shaved man looked like he was about to protest. But he abandoned his task, gave the blade one more swipe with a towel before he strolled over leisurely. Prompto’s breath caught for a moment when the man approached, twirling the knife in his fingers like some toy. Shaken eyes followed him, anticipation pooling in the boy’s gut when he stepped behind him, out of his field of vision. “Wha-what’re you doin’?”

 

His question was answered with an unamused snort. Then, there was a tug on his arms and chest, some scraping, and the bindings around him loosened up a little.

 

Javier gathered the rope from around him, it met the ground with a dull thud. The taller presence stood before him, and Prompto gasped out a little as Javier yanked him onto his feet. “Let’s move. The second door to the right,” he shoved the blond to walk ahead of him.

 

His legs numb from the long sit, Prompto stumbled a little as he was forced forward. “Alright, already,” he muttered under his breath.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Nothin’.” Then, Prompto halted before the door.

 

“What is it now?” Javier asked, his tone a cross of boredom and irritation. Prompto gave him a look over his shoulder but refused to move.

 

“I need my hands,” the blond deadpanned. “How am I supposed to go like this?” he shook his shoulders as emphasis.

 

“Forget it, kid.”

 

“You serious?” Prompto exasperated. “That’s practically a broom closet. There isn’t even a window! What chance do you think I’d have to escape?”

 

Javier’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, mouth twitching to open when Viper’s bored voice drawled from across the space, “For Six’s sake, Javi, just let the kid go. That whining is getting on my nerves.” Viper had dug out a cigarette and was lighting it as he spoke over his shoulder.

 

Saying that Javier looked displeased would be putting it mildly. Yet he cut the boy’s ropes, and Prompto immediately went to hold his abused wrist, inwardly flinching at the chafed skin and the dried blood.

 

Javier shoved him forth. “You have two minutes. Don’t make me come get you.”

 

“I get it,” Prompto muttered, barely audible. He didn’t stick around to wait for any possible response from Shaved Sides before skedaddling into the small space and slamming the door shut behind him. He locked it, then pressed his ear against the plywood in the unlikely case Javier would disobey his command and leave his post. Unfortunately for him, there were no retreating footsteps or even pacing. Was the guy seriously staying on the spot? Prompto’s brows furrowed as he bent down in the tight space to peek under the door. Javier was standing less than a few feet from it. He let out a silent gasp. He really was trapped.

 

‘Alright, alright, alright. Mind in the game, Prom! Think.’

 

“Not sounding too busy in there, kid,” came Javier’s sardonic voice.

 

“Is it my fault I have a shy bladder?!” Prompto shot back irritably. “Give me a break, will you?”

 

“Hurry it up,” there was amusement in Javier’s voice. “Or I’ll make you wish you had.”

 

“Alright, just, gimme a minute.” Sky eyes went around the walls frantically, returning to the lock as his only defence separating him from the murderers waiting for him on the other side. He had to get out of here! Grasping his wrist, Prompto’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t waste this chance, quite possibly the only one he was going to get. If he let them tie him back onto that chair, Prompto had a hunch he wasn’t getting out of it again.

 

But what could he do? The guy was standing right behind the-

 

The blue eyes widened, then narrowed in thought again as an idea came to him. A dangerous idea. Teeth sank onto his lip. It’d be all or nothing. If he screwed up, that’d be it. But it seemed like those were his chances anyway. Might as well risk it.

 

His heart raced as he pressed himself against the door and listened. Soon enough, he heard the faintest of grunts from the other side, Javier’s patience running thin. “Hey. You about done in there?” Prompto didn’t answer. “Hey?” Silently, Prompto turned the lock, millimeter by millimeter, his teeth clenching in anticipation.

 

“That’s it, kid. Your two minutes’s up.” Javier stepped towards the bathroom.

 

Prompto threw his entire weight against the door as he flung it open with all his strength. It hit the man in his face. Javier let out an enraged, surprised bark as he floundered from the force of the blow.

 

Prompto wasted no time on the brute. Flying past him in a long leap, the sky eyes scanned the room frantically before locking onto the doorway, and the blond bolted for it. Prompto didn’t look back at the rising voices, demands to know what the hell was going on, the furious orders to get him. He ran. His muscles were stiff from being restrained to the same position for so long and protested fiercely as he forced them to move. Blood thrummed in his ears, but he focused solely on the rapidly approaching door.

 

Prompto yelped, reflexively raising an arm to protect his head at the clang of a ricocheting bullet. His eyes squeezed shut for a second, a surge of adrenaline rushing through him, but he never stopped running. His eyes cracked open, enough to keep him heading toward the light. His racing pulse and his abductors’ enraged voices in his ears, Prompto burst out of the door into the cool evening air.

 

The place didn’t look like any he recognized. Prompto’s breath caught as he tried to gather where they were. All around him was prairie landscape with low-rise bushes and an occasional tree here and there. There were dozens of rusted cars and other metal junk scattered around what used to be the parking lot of the station, now a burial ground where metal dreams went to die. Prompto didn’t spare the scrap a second glance as he dashed past it. He could see the gravel road leading to their remote location. Somewhere in that direction had to be a highway, some dwelling, anything. He was panting, his muscles screamed with the exertion, but Prompto wouldn’t give up. If he could just reach someone, call for help…!

 

There were running steps behind him, coming closer; Prompto’s teeth grit. He tried to coax his legs to go faster but he couldn’t help it. His legs were growing heavier, the initial rush of adrenaline rapidly being replaced by the pull of gravity as fatigue and lack of nutrition wreaked havoc on his body. And although he tried to fight it -to scream at his limbs to keep going- to his despair, Prompto’s steps were slowing down. The taste of blood rose onto his tongue as desperate fear coursed through him and clung to his chest like a dark claw. The steps were gaining on him. They were already so close.

 

Prompto made a surprised yelp when a heavy weight landed onto his lower back. The ground rushed up to meet him as he was tackled, the mass of a body landing on top of him. “Gotcha!”

 

On his stomach and flailing on the ground, the blond struggled blindly to throw the man off him. “Get off me!” He gasped in pain as a knee-like pressure slammed down between his shoulder blades. His breath caught as Javier crushed him chest-first into the ground.

 

“Not gonna happen again, kid.”

 

Earth and straws of hay got into his mouth, burning pain spread across his face as a hand forced his cracked nose into the dirt. Prompto’s coughs were strangled, each heave of air hard-earned as his lungs and abs cramped with the shakes traveling across his chest and abdomen.

 

The man pressing him down grabbed Prompto’s wrist roughly and forced it into the small of his back. “L-let go-!”

 

He saw the flash of silver in the corner of his eye before the cold kiss of metal brushed his throat. The boy’s eyes widened as he understood what it was and panting raggedly, Prompto went still as the dull edge of the blade pressed into his skin in a clear warning. The pressure like an anvil on his back wrung the air out of him, his mind started to cloud over. Even as the second wrist was forced to join the other, even as his consciousness was fleeting, the sky eyes still peered down the gravel road leading to the freedom Prompto had just lost forever.


	5. Paying For It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by [Elillierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elillierose/pseuds/Elillierose) and [Ellay_gee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellay_gee/pseuds/ellay_gee) \- thank you so much, guys! Your help is pushing this story up a few more notches. ^..^
> 
> Mina-san, thank you so much for reading this work, leaving me feedback and showing your love! ^..^ It has been so lovely to read all your comments, to receive kudos. You make me so happy!  
> Also, look at these lovely arts people have drawn! TT..TT  
> [Sinikka_von_Wolperting](http://freaky-trickster.tumblr.com/post/174877231118/if-thats-the-case-then-youre-of-no-use-to-me)  
> [Bagpipes5k2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230604)
> 
> <3
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr](https://markofthemoros.tumblr.com)

The steps circled him with deliberate slowness, each ‘clack’ echoing loudly in the vast space. Prompto didn’t dare to look. Again sitting in that wretched chair, his aching hands behind his back and head hung, the boy’s breaths came in fearful hisses through grit teeth.

 

There was a glint of madness in the hazel eyes as Viper studied the trembling form. The brat was terrified. Well, for good reason. The man took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke to the kid’s head, ignoring the coughs it brought, before he crouched down. Grabbing Prompto’s hair roughly, Viper forced them to meet eye to eye. “You simply don’t know when to give up, do you?”

 

“Heh. Yeah. Force of habit. What’s your excuse?”

 

His resistance only seemed to humor his captor. “Adorable.”

 

“F-fuck you,” Prompto snarled, hoping to sound braver than his shaking voice let on.

 

“I’m afraid you’re not my type, kid.”

 

Prompto spat at him. There was a light tug on his hair as Viper faltered, clearly taken off guard, and Prompto had the nerve to look smug. That was, until the hazel gaze -now fierce and enraged- snapped back at him. The man glared venom at his prisoner, eyes narrowing in rage, and Prompto’s stomach dropped at the gravity of his screw-up. He tried to say something -perhaps a plea, perhaps an apology- but all that came out were frightened stutters until even those were cut off by a gasp when Viper pulled his head back.

 

“I’m beginning to think you’re actually enjoying pissing me off, kid. Do you like this, hm? Do you like the thrill of it?!” For a moment, Viper looked like a real snake, ready to plunge its teeth into Prompto’s bare throat and hold on until the tremors had died down. Then, the man seemed to regain some of his composure. He let out a long breath, took another, and the grip of Prompto’s hair eased. “Very well,” he spoke with exaggerated calm as he stood up from the floor, “if you insist.”

 

Prompto gulped. The way the man had said it, it couldn’t possibly mean anything he would enjoy. His heart raced with anticipation when Viper stepped behind him. Viper was mad; _Prompto_ had made him mad. Prompto wasn’t naive enough to think his little escapade would go unpunished. He just hoped it wouldn’t be _too_ bad. As long as there wouldn’t be any permanent damage, he could deal with the rest of it later. Assuming there was going to _be_ a later. They wouldn’t _kill him_ , would they? They still needed him, right?! But there was a lot a man could still live through. And the malevolence in Viper’s eyes...Prompto swallowed. To his disdain, he tried and failed to keep himself from trembling. Expecting the worst, Prompto’s eyes squeezed shut in wait for the pain. He had been beaten, they had already broken bones. What more could they possibly inflict on him now?

 

In his fear, Prompto couldn’t stop himself from reacting as Viper’s fingers meticulously untied the binding from his hands. “Wha..” The faint hope that rippled to life in his chest was soon snuffed out, though, as Viper’s grip on his wrists renewed. “Ngh!” The merciless hold sent fire coursing up and down his arms before he was pushed onto his feet.

 

Kicking the chair aside, Viper hissed a low warning for Prompto to stay still. And Prompto knew he should have done anything but that as the rope again burned his wrist. Viper tied his entire arm, up to elbow, before his limb was stretched out and above his head. “W-what’re you doing?” He was ignored as Viper, whistling out a little tune as he did so, secured his other arm to the opposite wall, tightening it until Prompto stood spread-eagled in the middle of the room.

 

Panic rose in him and Prompto fought his new restraints. He could move a little, but not enough to bend his elbows, and pulling irritated his already raw wrists to the point where the burning almost made him shout, so he forced himself to still. He’d only end up hurting himself. Already, his shoulders were making themselves known, being strained in the difficult position, and Prompto drew in deep breaths through his nose to push it aside.

 

With an amused snort, Viper crossed his arms over his chest in a mock ponder. “Say, Javier, don’t you think something’s off here?” He motioned towards the bound boy like he was a canvas and Viper was trying to figure out the perfect composition.

 

“Yeah. The jacket’s in the way,” the man noted sardonically.

 

Viper’s broadening smile was just that much exaggerated. “You said it, Javi. Would you mind?”

 

Prompto wanted to yell for the man to get the hell away from him when Javier smirked and stepped closer, the knife finding its way back in the man’s hand. Where had that even come from, why hadn’t he seen it?

 

A cold lump settled into his gut at the sound of something tearing. Only when the pain never came did he realize that it had been his clothes. Javier ripped both of his tops, not bothering with being too careful and nicking Prompto’s skin enough to make the blond hiss at the incisions. Prompto’s heart sunk as the ruined cloth slid off from around him, leaving him exposed from the waist up. Blood hammered in his ears as vivid ideas of what this could entail ran through his head, each scenario less pleasant than the one before.

 

“All yours,” Javier shrugged at Viper as he folded the knife away.

 

The glint in Viper’s eyes wasn’t exactly reassuring. Stubbornly, Prompto jerked a little as that sickening smile settled on the brunet’s lips again, and the man sneered, “Well look at you…” He tapped something on his phone before handing it over to Javier, who only nodded in understanding. “Dare I say ‘photogenic’.”

 

Prompto swore he was never using that expression again in his life as the phone’s camera was pointed at him.

 

* * *

 

The waning moon was rising over Insomnia. Noctis sighed deep as he lowered his gaze from the city lights spreading out far down below him. Sitting on a parapet overlooking the landscape, the prince clutched his phone in his hand. He had lost count of how many times he had scrolled through the photos he had received today, as if unable to comprehend this was happening.

 

The officials had tried to reach Prompto’s parents all day, with questionable luck. Calls to his father had gone straight to voicemail, and his mother’s number wasn’t answering at all. Prompto had mentioned his mother was out of the country for a few days, but that was hardly a reason enough for a complete radio silence. Noctis hissed lowly under an exhale. Prompto’s folks not being around was nothing new. But was it too much to ask for them to at least answer the fucking phone?! This was their son, for Six’s sake! Out there, in grave danger. Noctis felt cold.

 

Cor had made it clear there was nothing they could do but wait and see how this would unfold. And little as Noctis liked it, he had to admit he didn’t really think of anything better. Any action too bold would put Prompto’s life in immediate jeopardy. He hadn’t left his phone behind for a minute. Simultaneously fearing and expecting it to go off at any second, Noctis didn’t as much as go to the bathroom without having the device at hand. Twisted as it was, his phone had become a lifeline. Literally.

 

“Noct?”

 

The raven’s attention went to the speaker. Ignis offered him a sympathetic smile as he strolled down the skyway. The twitch of a lip Noctis offered hardly qualified as a response but the adviser seemed satisfied with that nonetheless.

 

“Mind if I join you?”

 

“I...guess I could use some company,” the prince shrugged. This time, the look of gratitude was genuine.

 

“Thank you.” Ignis rested his elbows on the stone but remained standing. The adviser didn’t say more for a while as he pretended to lose himself in the view. Noctis wasn’t fooled, though. Waiting for whatever it was that Ignis had come to tell him, the prince sat equally silent, gazing over the light-speckled city. He didn’t need to wait for long.

 

“Noct?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“How’re you holding up?”

 

The prince made an odd sound. A cross of a chuckle and a huff, but lacking any amusement. “Not sure.”

 

“Understandable, I suppose.”

 

Noctis shrugged. “What am I doing, Specs?” It came out frustrated, and yet only a hair’s width from desperate. The next words were so quiet Ignis barely caught them. “Why do I keep fuckin’ everyone’s lives up?”

 

“Noct-”

 

“No, really! First Luna and Ravus, now this-!” His voice broke, Noctis was left panting quietly, his lips pulled back in a snarl. The midnight eyes turned to Ignis, moist, soft, and Noctis sniveled, “What’s wrong with me?”

 

At that moment, Ignis didn’t see a royal heir. He saw a scared, broken boy who blamed himself for the wrongs done to his loved ones. He saw a vulnerable soul and the extent of the damage these men had done. Ignis’s heart broke at the look on his face, one of a man left behind to watch at the doorstep how his whole life slips away from him.

 

The adviser’s own eyes widened at the rush of emotion, and he blew out a deep, carefully controlled breath. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

 

“Oh yeah?!” Noctis’s laughter held no humor. “Then why does this keep happening? Every time, it’s just-” His mouth forgot its function at the firm yet reassuring grip of his upper arm.

 

Ignis’s steely gaze pulled him back from his despair, back to the moment as Ignis consoled him, “None of this is your fault, and I’m sure Prompto sees it that way, too. Thinking otherwise isn’t helping our cause. It is true that there is little we can do but wait for the time being, but surrendering to despair is exactly what these men hope to achieve, Highness.” Ignis’s expression softened, and he added sympathetically, “Please don’t allow them such an easy victory.”

 

“Are you sayin’ that as my friend or my adviser?” Noctis laughed, this time genuine, as we wiped his eyes swiftly.

 

“Both, if needed.”

 

Offering him a small smile, the prince nodded, “Thanks.”

 

“Anytime.” They just looked at each other for a moment until Ignis, clearing his throat and correcting his glasses, uttered, “Krhm. Now then, I think we should-”

 

Noctis never found out what Ignis ‘thought they should’. His phone buzzed violently with an incoming call. This time it was for video. Breaths catching, the men shared a worried look before Noctis swiped right.

 

It was Prompto. Shirtless and standing up, both his arms stretched out, the blond struggled in his bindings. His ribcage rose and fell with rapid pants and his eyes went around frantically. “Prompto?!”

 

The mechanical voice jeered, “Ah. Good evening, Your Highness.” A figure dressed neatly in pressed shirt and slacks, but wearing a gruesome _noh_ mask, stepped into the picture. “So nice of you to join us. And I see Master Scientia is with you. How delightful.”

 

“You bastard! What did you do to him?!” Noctis barked.

 

“Ah, ah, ah,” the masked man tutted. “Let’s not get agitated, now. You see, young Prompto here is in trouble. I’m afraid he has been rather delinquent,” he kept talking as he languidly backed up closer to Prompto but never turned his back to the camera.

 

“He tried to escape a while ago. And it just breaks my heart that he’s not appreciating his accommodations.” The tone turned to ice as the man added, “I thought I’d invite you to witness me breaking him in return.” Gloved hands gripped Prompto’s chin, forcing him to face the camera.

 

Through his panic, something about Prompto’s expression changed. Like he had just understood something. Noctis had milliseconds to see the shift in his eyes, Prompto looking at _him_ instead of the camera, and a hopeful “Noct?”

 

Then, Prompto suddenly tore himself free from the hold and yelled, “Noct, his name’s Viper, we’re at a-!”

 

Prompto was cut off as the masked man mercilessly drove a knee into his stomach. Blood spurted from his mouth with a choked-up cough. Prompto’s knees buckled and he slumped forward, his head lolling to the front. In front of him, now back towards the camera, the masked man spoke in a sibilant tone, “You really shouldn’t have done that, kid.”

 

The screen went dark.

 

“Prompto?!” Noctis surged forward as if to chase after the image. “Prom!” He turned to the adviser. “The hell was that? What’s happening?!”

 

“Noct...Prompto has just offered us a vital clue,” Ignis stared at the blackened phone screen, eyes wide behind the rims of his of his glasses, shaking fingers fumbling at his pocket. He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed the number. Ignis did such a good job at hiding the tremor in his voice as he spoke gravely, “Marshall? I believe we have something.”

 

*

 

The men in the room listened with grim intensity as Ignis gave them a thorough recap. As soon as he was done, Nyx Ulric queried:

 

“Wait, did you say ‘Viper’?!”

 

“That’s the name Prompto gave us, yes.” Nyx’s brows furrowed.

 

“That name mean anything to you, Ulric?” Cor asked, arms tightly crossed over his chest.

 

“Yeah. In Galahd, there’s a resistance movement going by the name of Crimson Fang. Small but influential. Underground, lead by a guy called Viper. A guerilla and a contract killer, became radicalized when the land fell under Imperial control.”

 

“You mean a terrorist,” Cor dragged a hand over his face.

 

“Pretty much. This guy’s a big shot. Arson, arms dealing, drugs, you name it.”

 

“A professional.”

 

“Would explain the delicacy of his actions to hide his identity,” Ignis nodded, a finger on his chin.

 

“Then why the hostility towards Noctis?” the king inquired.

 

“With all due respect, if I’m correct, I’m afraid these actions are ultimately directed at you, Majesty. The prince and his friend are a means to an end.”

 

“Me?” Regis’s brows narrowed. “Explain.”

 

“The Crimson Fang is known to be anti-Empire as well as anti-monarchy, Your Majesty. The faction blames Lucis for abandoning Galahd under Imperial control. Sees it as the Crown’s treason to the people.”

 

“And hence an act of revenge…”

 

“Seems so, Your Majesty.”

 

“Why haven’t we known of this sooner?”

 

Noctis hardly listened as the men went on about The Crimson Fang and -most importantly- their shadowy leader. Slouching in the armchair, the prince bit his teeth as he silently simmered in his worry. His nails dug into his palms at the recollection of the latest message he had received from the man Prompto had identified as Viper.

 

It didn’t take a genius to tell the blond was hurt, badly. Limp and bloodied, Prompto had hung from his arms alone, his unconscious weight resting entirely on his shoulders as the bindings were too tight to allow his knees to reach the floor. His wrists bled, streaks running down his arms. Combined with his paled skin, the crimson painted a ghastly contrast on that too-slender frame, and for a heart-stopping moment Noctis had thought Prompto was dead. The skin above his right collar bone had blackened, looking like a smudge but he could see the faint lines of burn mar underneath. But what had ensnared Noct’s attention was still the horrible bruising and swelling over Prompto’s lower ribs and abdomen, the telltale signs of the brutal violence the blond had suffered, and he hoped nothing was broken. But looking at the damage, he knew the chances for that were slim. From the looks of it, they had broken his ribs.

 

Underneath the picture had read the words, ‘Well now. I had thought of letting him down after an hour or so. But I think I’ve changed my mind. I think he’ll stay like that for the whole night. But heavens, where are my manners? Now that your dear Prompto was kind enough to introduce us, I might as well present you with my most humble greetings, Your Highness. I am so pleased to make your acquaintance.’

 

Noctis was going to kill him. Viper, or whatever the hell his name was, Noctis was going to rip his heart out. Vaguely he registered the irate surges of magic just beneath skin, coursing in his veins like liquid fire, and his jaw tightened borderline painfully. ‘Hang on, Prom!’ his heart went out to his friend. ‘Just, hang on. We’ll get you out of there, I promise.’

 

He just hoped they weren’t too late.


	6. Waiting Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we learn more about Viper's motive and Noctis really needs to let off some steam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, just a heads-up that the rating of this story has gone up to M. 'Cause it really needed to.
> 
> I blame Sinikka von Wolperting for the second half of this chapter entirely! >:D  
> She wanted to see more of Nyx. I said I'd see what I can do.  
> 'Finger brushes your cheek gently, coming to rest beneath your chin. Gently he urges you to look up, to meet his gaze. The topaz eyes sparkle with delight as he whispers huskily, "My name is Ulric. Nyx Ulric."'  
> -  
> Beta read by [Elillierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elillierose/pseuds/Elillierose) and [Ellay_gee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellay_gee/pseuds/ellay_gee). These people are seriously awesome. Both are so talented, I look up to them both. Plus, they're the ones to listen to my whining whenever I'm stuck with this thing, haha. So thanks for patience.
> 
> Also, look at these lovely arts people have drawn! TT..TT  
> [Sinikka_von_Wolperting](http://freaky-trickster.tumblr.com/post/174877231118/if-thats-the-case-then-youre-of-no-use-to-me)  
> [Bagpipes5k2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230604)
> 
>  
> 
> [Say hi on Tumblr](https://markofthemoros.tumblr.com)

The pain didn’t come as a tidal wave. It crept into his consciousness, first like a friend, sneaking up to him under its deceptive guise. Then, what had been almost like a caress suddenly a burning as if his skin was on fire. His cry was wordless and panicky. Disincarnate nails tried to scratch away the itch that was now scalding him. And then...then came the tearing.

 

Prompto moaned loudly, his breath catching at the obliterating rush his unconscious mind no longer protected him from. It was like his shoulders, his entire upper body was being torn apart. He could have sworn his skull was splitting in two at the shrill screeching sound in his head. Prompto hacked, droplets of blood splattering the floor. Each jerk sent flares of agony coursing up and down his arms as well as across his abdomen. Whining breathlessly, Prompto tried to pull his legs back beneath himself, but they were shaky and he lost his footing, the searing pain ripping across his shoulders again. There was a disturbing crunch, and for an agonizing heartbeat, Prompto was sure his arm had torn off.

 

After what felt like eons, the blond finally managed to climb back onto his feet to alleviate the pressure on his abused shoulders. Hissing at the rapid pulsing of his muscles, his teeth grit against the onslaught. It was like in all those science fiction movies he watched, when the spaceship shot out into hyperspace. That blinding dash between spaces where stars swished by in illuminous streaks now ripped through his flesh. Very carefully, Prompto moved his arm, only to heave out a wet, disheartened cry as the limb refused to obey him.

 

He kept his eyes shut. Not because he didn’t want to open them -to witness what he knew would await for him: the dilapidated walls of the shithole of a gas station and the men holding him prisoner- but because he feared that would add to his agony. He was forced to, though, as the voice of the man Prompto had come to loathe drawled, “You took your sweet time.”

 

Dizzy with pain, Prompto reluctantly cracked his eyes open. A pained snarl distorted his features as wavering eyes tried to focus on his captor.

 

Viper was sitting across from him, one leg casually over the other, inhaling from his cigarette as he leaned his head to his free hand. Slender fingers weaved into brown locks as the man watched how his captive came alive with the pains littering his body. The blond’s uncontrollable moans curled Viper’s lips up at the edges; a cat contemplating a wounded bird. Then, he unfurled his legs and stomped the cigarette under his shoe before slumping forward, supporting elbows to his thighs. “You’ve stayed like that for almost eight hours. I’d imagine the pain’s getting unbearable,” he spoke conversationally. The stifled whimper Prompto made hardly qualified as a reply, but Viper hadn’t expected a proper one. “All this,” he gestured for the bound boy, “this could have been avoided, you know. My quarrel is not with you,” he added. Lazily, he stood up and closed the short distance between them.

 

Running his fingers along the bruised cheek, eliciting a hiss from the blond, Viper cooed softly, “You’ve really brought this upon yourself, kid. Now, this didn’t have to get ugly. If only you’d just stayed put like a good boy…” he left the end of that hanging in the air, but the casual shrug spoke loudly of his meaning. The boy’s snarl was undermined by the small whine he couldn’t quite hold back, one that escalated into a full-out shout as Viper snorted and yanked at his injured arm.

 

As if he hadn’t heard him, Viper continued with deceptive consoling, “Do you know why you’re here, boy?”

 

Prompto listened only half-heartedly. His breaths were shallow, tremory sputters as his shoulders screamed. “Please…” he didn’t even know what he was pleading for. To be let down; for sweet oblivion to take him; for these men to end it... “Please…”

 

Viper ignored him. Turning around, he sauntered to stand a few feet in front of him. “Well, you really have your royal friend and their puppet government of self-righteous despots to thank. Tell me, kid, do you know where Galahd is?” Viper spoke almost disinterestedly, studying his fingernails. However, the questioning look he gave the blond finally prompted a response as Prompto managed a weak ‘yeah’.

 

The man looked pleased. “Really? I guess they do teach you something in school...well, kid, as you know, Galahd has been invaded.” The man’s expression darkened. “Forsaken, to be overrun by the Empire while the swines of Insomnia _cower_ behind their _sacred Wall_.” Viper’s hands clenched into tight fists as he all but spat out the words as if they were something disgusting. “This fraudulent _king_ ,” the word came out as a scoff, “one who abandons his own people to ruin and death, comfortably turning his eyes from their suffering,” Viper’s voice kept rising. “Comfortably sipping his wine _with the fine folk of his precious Insomnia_ _while the people living at the edges are getting slaughtered-_!” He seemed to catch himself: cutting himself off, Viper closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Eventually, his fists unclenched, and after a while, he opened his eyes again to look at the boy.

 

“I guess it’s just your luck, kid,” Viper crossed his arms lightly, chuckling. “Surely, as the princey boy will eventually crack, his dear papa would do anything to pacify him. He’s weak. That _king_ ,” there it was again, that poison on that forked tongue, “is nothing more than an elevated tyrant, groveling before the enemy before his own end.”

 

He paused as Prompto’s sniveling got louder. The boy was muttering despondent pleas; hardly even speaking words at this point. Viper rolled his eyes. “Really? I was getting to the good part,” he mock-scolded.

 

Prompto didn’t listen. Trembling uncontrollably, mindless muttering fell from his lips. He had lost control of his mouth long ago. He no longer cared. Just please gods make it end…!

 

Viper sighed exaggeratedly. “I trust you’ve learned your lesson?” Prompto could only nod feverishly; the strangled sound he made hardly counted as an attempt to communicate.

 

Shaking his head, Viper dug out a knife. “You might want to stand up straight, boy,” he noted before he went to cut the rope. His teeth gritting, Prompto struggled to find firmer footing on shaky legs. He moaned loudly as his left arm was released. It slumped to his side as dead weight, but the trajectory combined with the torn tissue of his arm wrung a scream from his lungs, another when Viper no less carefully freed his right. With nothing to hold him upright anymore, Prompto let his knees give out and he crumbled to the floor in a heap. The fall tore out a strangled, wheezy scream as his bruised side collided with the cement.

 

Hazel eyes observed the writhing boy impassively. Viper knew he had overdone it. But rest assured, he had made a point. Snorting a little, Viper reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial. The Hi-Potion’s cool light made the soft brown of his eyes stand out, giving it almost an otherearthly glow as Viper crouched down next to the barely conscious boy.

 

Prompto’s eyes were wandering behind drooping lids; his lips were moving, tasting words, but nothing came out. Viper shook his head in slight amusement before he uncorked the bottle and dropped a few drops on both of Prompto’s shoulders.

 

Prompto threw his head back in a scraping, raw wail as the shimmers of magic begun to dance around him. He could feel each shift as the potion mended torn tissue. His muscles tingled, it was like a million little jolts had run through his limbs. It was a disturbing sensation, to have your tendons shifting and reattaching. It hurt. Not as much as it had, but Viper hadn’t applied enough to dull the pulls and wrenches. When it was over, and the glimmers of the potion had subsided, Prompto had just enough energy left to be vaguely aware of the gentle patting of his cheek before all was lost in the darkness.

 

* * *

 

Noctis kept glancing at his phone obsessively, as if fearing he had missed something over the past three minutes since he last checked it. 11:28 am. He clenched the device almost tightly enough to crush it at the miniscule advance toward 8 pm. It seemed like a lifetime. And so much more Prompto would have to endure.

 

The prince had had to stop himself thrice already. From texting -or calling, or mailing. Fuck, he’d settle for sending smoke signals!- to the man that was wringing his head into a corkscrew. He just wanted to know that Prompto was alive. That’s all. He had typed up his request, then erased it, then typed it up again. ‘Let me talk to hi-’ No. ‘How can I know he’s still ali-’ Nah. Too direct.

 

‘You’ll get the money. Please don’t hurt him anymore.’

 

His thumb had hovered over the ‘send’ hesitantly. Surely, Viper should be pleased that the prince was practically admitting defeat. But Noctis was sure the bastard would still find a way to use it against him. ‘You try to contact us unauthorized, Prompto suffers.’ As if he hadn’t already! Noctis squeezed his eyes shut in a silent snarl. Would Prompto ever be alright after this? It went without saying that he’d receive the best treatment, they’d arrange him all the therapy he needed. But would that be enough? After something like this, Prompto would never be the same again. Noctis couldn’t help but fear that regardless of what happened tonight, he had already lost the Prompto he knew. He wanted to scream.

 

11:33 am.

 

This was going to be a long day.

 

Grunting, Noctis scrambled out of bed. Not that he had been sleeping for a while anyway. The night had been terrible. He probably wouldn’t have even tried to sleep if it wasn’t for Ignis’s incessant nagging and insisting that he’d need to be able to keep his head in the game today. Finally, at about two in the morning, Noctis had given in and at least lied down. The sleep that had taken him had been riddled with faceless whispering, the pressing feeling of being cornered. Eyes. So many eyes on him, blood-red and glowing. Coming from seemingly everywhere, dark hands had grabbed him and started pulling his arms and legs, pulled until they were tearing him apart-! Noctis had woken up in cold sweat, grasping his tank top and his lungs clenching. He needed some fresh air. Dutifully he snatched his phone charger from the wall and pocketed it, tapping the lump twice as if to make sure it was there. Then, Noctis was out of the door and slamming it shut behind him in seconds.

 

He pondered going back to the roof, but the thought seemed less appealing during the day. It was too bright and too hot. He needed something to _do_. Being cooped up inside the palace, while not exactly unpleasant, was still grating on his nerves. In a way, it was almost like he was back to being a child again. That mothering had been the exact reason why he had wanted to move out in the first place. And now he was confined within the palace and while it’d be fairly easy to slip out, Noctis was pretty sure Cor or his father wouldn’t be pleased. Hell, he bet Cor would send someone after him and he didn’t need to deal with that, on top of everything else.

 

Just...he had too much time like this! To think, mainly. It frustrated him, to cower inside the citadel and _wait_ while Prompto was-! Noctis huffed irritably. He had gone out to get rid of this feeling, dammit! Eight o’clock couldn’t come too soon. They still had no leads. His father had given the Kingsglaive until 4:30 to figure something out - or he’d give the treasury the order to prepare the money. And the king would personally oversee the money counting if it came to that. Until then, their hands were tied.

 

Noctis grunted deep in his throat; he feared that he’d lose his mind by then if he kept simmering in this. Heaven knew he had come close.

 

Without thinking about where he had been going -offering the passing servants and officials a curt nod of acknowledgement every here and there- Noctis found himself halfway to the training areas of the citadel. He grinned a bit sloppily: perhaps a little workout was just what he needed. Letting off some steam wouldn’t hurt. His fists clenched at all the pent-up energy hammering against his skull in dull throbs. Almost feeling the weight of the sword in his hand already, Noctis grabbed his phone -12:26 pm- and sent Gladio a text:

 

‘Where’re you?’

 

His shield’s reply took a while; the prince fidgeted restlessly on his feet, shifting weight from side to side and tapping the floor with his shoe tip. When the phone eventually went off, the raven couldn’t help the ill shudder that ran through him, immediately followed by the surge of relief at the smirking face of Gladio on the screen. ‘Training. You need something?’

 

Noctis hissed a small ‘yes’. Because boy did he need something!

 

‘An ass to kick. Yours free?’

 

‘Sure’d like to see you try. Although Glaive Ulric’s reserved the first shot at it. Says you can have what’s left of him though’

 

‘Gayyy’

 

‘Says the guy first asking for free ass’

 

‘Fuck you’

‘I’ll be there in twenty’

 

‘My ass’ll be waiting’

 

‘Shivas tits Gladio’

 

‘Your words, not mine. See you in 20 princess’

 

Snorting, Noctis locked the screen and stuffed the phone into his pocket before breaking into a light jog towards the training grounds.

-

 He clenched his jaw harder as he pushed against the pressure that was threatening to knock him down. His hands trembled at the exercion. His opponent’s weapon tilted lower, closer to his face.

 

“Your enemy is stronger than you, what do you do?” Gladio called out from the sidelines. “You’ll tire yourself out like that, and then what?”

 

“Surely this isn’t all you’ve got, Highness?” Ulric’s tone remained polite but his eyes were laughing. Grunting, Noctis couldn’t help his elbows from giving in a little, the weapon hovering dangerously close to its mark.

 

Noctis kneed the man in the stomach. Relishing the low grunt, Noctis shoved him backwards as the pressure from his arms disappeared. Forcing Nyx to stagger, the prince used the critical second to fling his sword across the room. The pull of the warp felt like his stomach would have stayed behind. As he decrystallized with a loud crackling sound, Noctis’s knees buckled and he fell into a sloppy crouch as the room swirled. Gods, he wasn’t sure he was ever going to get used to that. His instructors told him it was like that for everyone, but his father made it look so easy. Hell, the _glaives_ made it look easy!

 

“You ok, Noct?” Gladio hollered.

 

“Ye...yeah! Fine.” Pushing himself back onto his feet, Noctis wiped the spittle that had trickled down his chin before raising his practice sword again. “Let’s go!”

 

Nyx holstered his wooden daggers and spread his arms, feigning vulnerability. “Hit me with your best shot, Your Highness.”

 

Noctis knew Nyx was doing it on purpose. He knew he should have just let the Glaive’s taunt roll off his back. But it was a tad bit difficult when Nyx was beating him six to nothing and the man had barely broken a sweat. So, ignoring reason, Noctis dashed. As he approached, he raised his blade high above his head, ready to cleave the man in two. With a yell, he brought it down.

 

The dull blade met a wooden edge at half-way. Noctis had just enough time to gasp, to read the victorious smirk on the man’s face before Nyx, discarding his second dagger, grabbed a hold of Noctis’s right wrist and wrung the weapon from his hand. Diving under the captured arm, Nyx yanked it behind the prince’s back. The sound Noctis was about to make died into a whimper at the graze of a weapon on his throat. “You’re dead, Your Highness.” Nyx’s voice was a bit breathless and heavy in his ear, and Noctis froze in the hold.

 

“Enough. At ease, Ulric, I think that’s decided,” Gladio stepped up. Nyx detached himself immediately with a small nod.

 

“You alright, Highness?”

 

“Yeah, fine,” Noctis nodded absentmindedly.

 

Gladio wasn’t hiding his satisfaction. “Good! That was better. You think you’re starting to get the hang of it?”

 

“Not sure,” the prince replied, scratching the back of his neck. Had that been much better than any of the previous attempts? That marked seven deaths for him, zero for Nyx.

 

“A frontal attack is easy to predict. Never charge at your opponent and reveal where you intend to strike. You’ll be offering them the benefit of anticipation, which you want to hold on to,” Gladio explained as he crouched to pick up the prince’s weapon. “Good. Again.” The prince only nodded with a low grunt of affirmation and accepted his weapon back. Nyx, too, retrieved his lost dagger.

 

“No need to hold back for me, Highness,” Nyx offered, swiping his nose cockily as he readied his daggers again. “Come at me like you mean it. Just, imagine I’m not me,” he bounced lightly, shifting his stance as Noctis readied his.

 

At him like he meant it, huh? What did Nyx think he was doing? Noctis snorted to himself. As the men started circling each other, however, Nyx muttered to him, “Imagine I’m _him_.”

 

It took a moment for what the glaive had implied to sink. Him who? Then, the onyx eyes widened as an image of the bloodied blond, the tall man, the gruesome mask flashed in his mind. Noctis’s features morphed into an ugly snarl, fingers wrapping tighter around the practice sword’s cushioned hilt. The hum of the magic escalated into crackles around him; his skin tingled with the surges again. His voice now low and sinister, Noctis hissed, “I hope you’ve got the balls to stand up to that, Ulric.”

 

Any quip about appreciating the prince’s concern about his balls died on the Glaive’s tongue. Noctis dashed quickly. Moving like a lightning bolt, Noctis slashed across Nyx’s chest, drawing out a startled ‘whoa’ as the man stumbled backwards. “Oh, no you don’t.” He chased after the other, going in with a sting. This time Nyx was ready, though, and a dodge to the side turned the tables as he forced the prince back on the defence with a swift horizontal cut Noctis had barely time to block.

 

Raining strikes on the younger man, Nyx allowed him to back away - only to have his eyes widen as Noctis, in a flash of blue, called out a magic flask. Throwing his dagger at a random direction, Nyx crystallized mere blink before the ethereal flames licked the ground where he had stood. He reappeared about fifteen yards from the prince, panting a little. “Ha...ha...not bad, Your Highness,” he saluted him briefly as he got up and got ready. While they hadn’t exactly ruled out magic, he hadn’t expected Noctis to pull it. The prince had caught him completely off guard. That was a nice move.

 

“Glad to hear you like it, Nyx,” Noctis gave him a dirty smug look as he stalked closer, his weapon held at ready. “Plenty more where that came from.”

 

Nyx returned the smirk. “Well, I’d hate to disappoint, milord.”

 

Their weapons clashed together, flakes of paint and ripped cushioning tearing off from both of their choice arms as the men dueled. This time Noctis was following the glaive’s movements, matching his rhythm and occasionally taking on the offensive. Also, the longer it went on, the more the younger man lost his limits. His strikes packed more power, his moves were getting riskier. A flush that wasn’t entirely exertion reached all the way up his ears and down his neck. Midnight eyes ablaze, Noctis smirked smugly and swung his weapon to the side with a flash of blue.

 

Nyx’s eyes snapped at the direction. But when the signifying cold light all but blinded the corner of his eyes, the telltale crackling of materialization sounding far closer than was convenient, Nyx’s breath caught. ‘A feint?!’ The glaive had just enough time to turn to see the strike flying at him.

 

The punch was heavy. It caught him right across his cheek. Nyx was thrown to the ground by the force of it. The scraping, the burning had barely time to register as a weight landed on his wrist and his dagger was wrung from his hand. Too soon, the tip of his weapon was dipping into his skin.

 

Noctis’s expression was unreadable as he panted above him. Then, he cracked a small grin, “You’re dead, Nyx.”

 

The glaive peered up at him as if unable to comprehend what just happened. Then, he let out a bit of a strangled laugh. “I...suppose you’re right, Highness. Good job.” He nudged his hand. “Uhm. Would you mind?” Noctis scrambled off him, tossing the dagger aside and slumping over to pant loudly.

 

Gladio’s easy jogging reached them soon. “What the hell, Noct?!” The harsh words couldn’t mask the impressed pride in the shield’s voice. “That was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done,” he scolded but it didn’t reach his tone. “Abandoning your weapon. What if you had missed? If your opponent would have remained standing, you’d been done for.”

 

“Well, I wasn’t, right?” Noctis chuckled as he tousled his hair. Then, his face fell. “Shit.” Following his eyes, Gladio noticed the trickle running down from the glaive’s nose, too. “Sorry, Nyx!”

 

It was then that the ache pushed through and Nyx tried the spot, only to find the warm, sticky liquid and the sting. He hissed quietly as the sensation washed over him. “Nah. Don’t worry about it, Highness,” he scoffed amusedly, although he winced a bit. “Not like it was the first time I’ve been punched. Heh, nor the last,” he grinned. “Well done.”

 

“Gee, thanks,” Noctis muttered, ashamed. An apologetic look on his face, the raven stretched out his hand, and Nyx accepted the offer to help him up. Wiping his nose, Nyx laid a hand on the prince’s shoulder, asking for the boy to look at him.

 

“Hey. Don’t worry about it, okey?” Nyx assured him, then he cracked a grin. “But if that’s the way you’re with friends, I sure wouldn’t want to be in that guy’s shoes.”

 

Even Noctis couldn’t help but chortle at that.

 

Nodding at his young liege, Nyx asked almost playfully, “Again?”

-

Later, as the prince was rinsing the grime of the training down the drain, on the bench in the changing room his phone screen lit up silently.

 

6:29 pm

 

_Preparing a system update_

_1 hr 30 min_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuun. >:D


	7. Bright Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the clock strikes eight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by [Elillierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elillierose/pseuds/Elillierose) and [Ellay_gee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellay_gee/pseuds/ellay_gee).
> 
> Also, look at these lovely arts people have drawn! TT..TT  
> [Sinikka_von_Wolperting](http://freaky-trickster.tumblr.com/post/174877231118/if-thats-the-case-then-youre-of-no-use-to-me)  
> [Bagpipes5k2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230604)
> 
> [Say hi on Tumblr](https://markofthemoros.tumblr.com)

_Snuff_.

 

_Snuff_.

 

_Snuff_.

 

The only sound he tried to focus on were his own sniffling breaths. Labored but even. His eyes on the floor but looking at nothing, Prompto let his head hang. He was too tired to hold it up.

 

_Snuff_.

 

His mouth was parched leather around the dampened cloth in it. How long had he been here? What time was it? They hadn’t given him water, not food, anything. Why? Was it to make him docile? Perhaps the men just didn’t care.

 

Distant voices drifted to him, talking. His captors were mostly ignoring him, apart from someone coming to check up on him every once in a while, deeming what he saw satisfying and leaving him alone again. He might have passed out briefly a couple of times, for the voices had suddenly been talking in a different place than a moment ago. Did it matter, though? Even oblivion was better than here.

 

A rogue sob rose into his throat, and Prompto tried his hardest to keep it down. As the pressure became strangling, the boy gave up. Trying to keep his throbbing shoulders from shaking, Prompto sniffled quietly, squeezing his eyes shut against the moisture that was gathering there. He was scared. He was hurting. He just wanted to go home.

 

He just didn’t know if he’d ever see his home again. If he’d see anything else ever again. Confined into that damn chair, Prompto had seen them move some stuff around. Crates. His heart had plummeted at the sight of the contents.

 

No, he wasn’t sure that he’d see his home again. He wasn’t sure at all.

 

* * *

 

The atmosphere in the room was so thick you could cut it with a blade. Gathered around the coffee table in the king’s study, the men avoided looking at each other. It was like each one feared what he would see on the other’s faces if he were to dare. The painstaking, heavy cranks of the antique grandfather clock by the bookshelves marked the moment drawing closer.

 

On the table, next to the assembly consisting of Noctis’s phone, the charger and a conference loudspeaker, sat an inconspicuous black briefcase. The prince’s expression was unreadable as he eyed the item. Leaning forward, almost far enough for his chest to touch his knees, Noctis fiddled his fingers. Fear and anticipation waging a war inside him, he dreaded the moment the phone would ring. It couldn’t come too soon, and yet a part of him wished the call wouldn’t come at all. He didn’t want to do this. But what choice did he have? The Kingsglaive had failed. Whether Prompto would make it through this was up to this now.

 

He would never be able to forgive himself if anything happened to the blond. _Anything else_ , a small voice in his head supplied for him; Noctis cringed. Forgiving himself would be a task in itself as it was. He didn’t need to make things any worse.

 

For these men had won. The meaninglessness of their efforts was spectacular. Even after their best attempts, the best they’ve got was a vague idea of the formulation of the Crimson Fang’s hierarchy and their significant supporters in Galahd; a list of the faction’s activity and claimed attacks in the region; and a bit blurry image of their assumed leader. Nothing that could help to pinpoint their location or even to predict what was going to come to pass tonight. The man, Viper, would give him the instructions where to drop off his 800 grand, and hopefully that’d be it. Hopefully, Prompto would be there and be free as soon as these men got the money. The instant the blond was safe, the task force would ambush them and there would be no punishment harsh enough for what they have done.

 

Noctis clutched the fabric of his shirt.

 

He knew it couldn’t be that easy. These men were too good for that. He feared that once they had the money, they would use Prompto as a human shield. If they were to attempt capture, that would endanger his life. Quite possibly end it, in fact. Whatever happened tonight...Noctis didn’t want to think about what was going to happen tonight. It was his loss either way.

 

He glanced at the clock: three minutes. Yesterday, when Viper had called him, it had been on point. Presumably the man was going to be as meticulous this time around too. Taking a few deep breaths, the prince tried to compose himself.

 

Sitting next to him, Ignis’s emeralds flickered sympathetically toward his young ward’s turmoil. The situation was certainly far from ideal, but Noctis would have to keep it together. “It is almost  time, Noct. Are you ready?”

 

“No,” the prince chortled. “But might as well get it over with.”

 

“Just take it easy,” Cor’s tone was surprisingly gentle. “Do as he says, but try to keep him talking.”

 

“That’s right, Noct. Locating the phone call is going require some time, so try to stall him the best you can,” Ignis nodded, then added with a whisk of laughter in his voice, “And I happen to know from personal experience you to be quite capable of that.”

 

Noctis snorted, but offered the man a small, thankful smile. “Thanks.”

 

“In any case,” Gladio rested an encouraging hand on Noct’s shoulder, “we’ll get Blondie back, kiddo. Try to think beyond what’s gonna happen.”

 

Noctis fidgeted a little and tucked stray hair behind his ear. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms, then brought them back down, hands to his lap, as he leaned forward again. “Are you sure that’s all alright?” his voice was nervous as his eyes went back and forth between his father and the briefcase.

 

“Relax, Noctis.” Something was off in the king’s serenity. The usual self-confidence was gone, replaced by agitation and silent rage. Noctis hated the change in his father’s demeanor. It only underlined the severity of the situation. “It’s all there.” Then he added more soothingly, “I saw to it myself.”

 

“Yeah. But what-”

 

His jaw snapped shut at the deep drums of the grandfather clock striking eight. Gulping, Noctis’s eyes fixed on the phone.

 

Somehow, the eerie silence that remained after the last echoes of the eighth strike had died down was almost deafening. Just waiting to be breached by the shrill rings, it rested above them like a blanket of apprehension; none of them were immune to it. No-one spoke, hardly even shifted, for each shuffle, each rustle of fabric, each _breath_ would break the spell and unleash chaos upon the world like a thrown-open Pandora’s box.

 

It would be soon. Any second now, it would ring. And Noctis would have to answer it. Would have to face whatever would come to pass and end this. He wasn’t sure he had it in him. But he had to. He had no choice.

 

Moments passed.

 

It wasn’t ringing.

 

“C’mon,” Noctis mouthed. “C’mon…”

 

“He makes us wait,” Ignis noted dryly, so lowly Noctis wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear it or not.

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Are you sure it was eight o’clock?” there was a nervous note in Gladio’s tone as he crossed his arms.

 

“Ignis heard it too,” the prince replied, reaching out for his phone. “What’s taking so lon-”

 

The words died on his lips. On the screen, the loading icon rotated around and around casually as if mocking him. Noctis read the words thrice, his stomach dropping more at each eye movement.

 

_Installing automatic updates_

_16 % complete_

 

Noctis slammed his hand on the table with a loud bang. “What the-?!”

 

“Noctis?! What is it?” The alarm in the prince’s demeanor had Ignis bolting up as well. But all the prince saw was the gruesome black screen of his phone and the torturously slowly climbing numbers.

 

“A-an update?!”

 

“What is it?” the adviser peeked over his shoulder before gasping. “Can’t be...did we miss it?”

 

“What do you think?!” Noctis was fumbling with his phone, desperately trying to turn it on.

 

_55 % complete_

 

“C’mon! Stop the fucking update!”

 

“Don’t tell me…!” Cor rose up from his seat too, motioning toward the phone. “Of all times…!”

 

“What time is it?!” Noctis barked.

 

“It’s four past,” Ignis noted grimly. “Noct…”

 

“No! We aren’t late, Ignis!” he never stopped hammering the power button. “C’mon...comoncomoncomooon!” At long last, the numbers climbed up to 90%...96%...100%. The screen flickered with the blue light before it turned on. Noctis almost cracked the glass as he, after what felt like an eternity, punched in his code.

 

On the screen, a missed call. Noctis’s heart skipped a beat. No! Sending out a silent prayer, Noctis hit the call icon.

 

* * *

 

Viper’s expression deformed from astounded to furious over the course of the automatic message informing him that the number he is trying to reach is unavailable at this time. Blazing hazels glared at the device like he was pondering whether to cut the call or smash the thing into the nearest wall. Then, the glare snapped to the bound blond and his face settled into a dangerous smirk. “Well now,” the toxic purr fell from his lips like drops of acid, “it seems that your dear friend doesn’t deem you so dear after all.”

 

The confused ‘mmph’ was tinted with fear as Viper gestured to the other two. Looking a lot like a cornered animal desperately looking for a way out, Prompto’s gaze flew around his concrete hell before settling fearfully on the men closing in on him.

 

The blond raised hell as the men grabbed ahold of the backrest and the legs of the chair restraining him, and hauled him up. Wriggling and kicking his legs what little the bindings allowed him to, Prompto didn’t need words; his muffled demands to be released rung out loud and clear. But he might as well have been addressing a brick wall; the men didn’t spare him another glance as they begun to carry him.

 

In the corner of his eye, Prompto caught a glimpse of Viper grabbing a jerrycan. There was something akin to lust in the man’s expression, and if Prompto wasn’t scared before, it was that look that finally sent him reeling. He had vivid ideas of what that could entail, and the mere thought made him sick to his stomach. Panic crept into his muffled moans, sending spikes of adrenaline racing through his system. The thumping in his ears grew louder.

 

As soon as they set him down, Javier immediately turned away as if he was walking away from something disturbing, followed closely by the other man. At any other circumstance Prompto would have breathed out a sigh of relief. Now the look of disgust, almost nausea, on the soldier’s face only wrung his stomach into a tighter knot. He pulled against his ropes desperately, the pressure stinging his wrists and coursing up his arms, but the blond hardly even noticed it.

 

The abductors shared a meaningful look as the shaved brunet passed Viper. “All yours.” There was a shudder to his voice. Viper nodded in return as if acknowledging something only he was meant to understand before the two men left _-fled-_ inside. Viper listened to the distancing footsteps until he could no longer hear them. Sighing deep, the man raked a hand through his hair, tugging lightly. Then, he uncorked the canister.

 

Prompto’s tone pitched. Trying to push the chair back with his feet, Prompto tried to escape as the man loomed over him. Strings of muffled pleas rolled off his back as Viper shrugged and sighed, “You know, kid,” the stench of gasoline hit Prompto’s nose, “I never expected it to go this way.” The ropes were chafing his skin but the boy struggled anyway as the man lifted the can.

 

Prompto screamed as the foul liquid splashed his face, his chest, his legs. Some of it got into his nose, and Prompto sputtered as he fought the asphyxiation; the incessant prickling sensation seared his skin. It seemed to last forever; the wet hairs stuck to his face, hot tears mixed into the concoction as it drizzled down his cheeks. Pitiful sobs replaced the screams as Viper soaked him, the sickly sweet reek making him gag.

 

He was outwardly weeping by the time Viper tossed the can to the side unceremoniously; a small streak leaked out, forming a puddle that begun to spread toward his feet. Prompto swished his head around frantically as hopeless cries wheezed in his throat. His dignity long gone, every cell in him was begging for the man not to do this. Screaming the one plea into the gag over and over, Prompto watched the man light his cigarette.

 

“Well. I’ll see you in hell, kid.”

 

The ringtone sliced through the air like a hot knife. Prompto’s breath hitched as Viper’s hand froze, the lit lighter dangling between his fingers.

 

Slowly, _slowly_ , Viper flicked the cover onto the flame, smothering it, and reached into his wildly vibrating pocket.

 

“You’re late, Your Highness.”

 

At the other end of the line, Noctis’s heart quivered at the potential implications of that. “We’ve got the money, you sonovabitch!” the prince cried out into the phone. “Don’t hurt him!” The heaved ‘please’ was so soft Viper almost missed it.

 

The abductor blinked a couple of times at the young man’s tone. Desperate, panicked breaths; the prince truly had feared to be too late. Viper’s lip tugged up a little at the edge, his hazel gaze fixing onto the terrified boy. Each muscle in his neck and shoulders tense and on the edge, the blond panted heavily through his nose as uncontrollable sobs ravaged him.

 

Forcing composure back into his tone, Viper scolded, “You know, Your Highness, when I say eight o’clock, I do mean eight o’clock. I’m afraid Prompto is paying the price for your little gamble.”

 

“It was an accident!” Noctis’s tone came close to pleading as he gripped his hair nervously, eyes squeezing shut in fear of what he was going to hear. “Please, just...is he alright?”

 

Viper remained silent for a long time as if treasuring the panic it would no doubt cause in the other. Then, he finally huffed, ”For now he is. Although, I should say barely, no thanks to you.” Ignoring the relieved half-moan at the other end, the man continued, irritation audible in his voice, “Listen carefully, Your Highness, for I will not tolerate any more ‘accidents’. Now, you will bring the money to the location I send you after this phone call, and you will bring them mostly alone. You’re allowed a driver and an escort, but rest assured that if I see even a glimpse of assault troops or the police, you’ll never see your friend again, dead or alive. Is this understood?”

 

Gulping, Noctis nodded. “Yeah. Got it.”

 

“It’d better be, for I guarantee that if you try any funny business with me again, I will know. I will always know and you _will_ regret it,” Viper hissed angrily. Then, taking a breath, he added, “Now, you will be at this location exactly at midnight. And please, be late. Just try me.” At the other end, Noctis made a strangled sound as if the prince had just bit his tongue.

 

“You will be given further instructions at the site and you will deliver the money as instructed. It will be picked up and swept for bugs.” Vipers smiled coyly and rolled his eyes at the red-handed gasp Noctis was just a tad late from stopping. “You didn’t really think I wouldn’t expect you to try something clever, did you?” he smiled.

 

“Alright,” the prince breathed out, defeated. “I get it. I’ll do as you say...what about Prompto?” Noctis’s fist clenched, hot against the cool glass of the coffee table.

 

The chuckle made the prince’s stomach lurch. “At midnight, Your Highness. Please tell the Kingsglaive listening in on us my best regards. Oh, and the sum is _a million_ Gil now!”

 

Viper cut the call swiftly. As the screen went dark, the man was left staring at his reflection, deep in thought. Tapping his nails against the hard back cover, the gears turned in his head, an eerie smile ghosting over his lips.

 

It was the sniffling that broke his concentration. Not five yards from him, Prompto’s attempts to free himself had been reduced into mere shifting. He hung his head, tears still trickling down his cheeks but the sobs had quieted down into throaty whining. Viper chortled and shook his head, amused.

 

Prompto went rigid, his back pressing against the backrest as the man closed the distance. The fingers running down his cheek in a cruel mockery of a caress sent shudders down his spine, drawing out a soft whine as his breaths escalated. Viper’s air tingled his skin as the man bent down to murmur into his ear, “My, my. Just see how the tables have turned.”

 

There’s a sharp pain on his temple. Prompto gasped into the tape as dizziness rushed in. As his mind spiraled into silence, the last thing that remained haunting him was the man’s self-satisfied chuckle.

 

Viper’s eyes narrowed in glee as the boy slumped against the ropes inertly. When Prompto didn’t react to Viper tapping his cheek lightly, the man hummed to himself as he bent down to undo the restraints. He caught the boy before he hit the ground; the kid was dead weight in his arms. Snorting, Viper grabbed him under the arms and begun to haul him across the yard.

 *

The rumble of the gravel road beneath the tires wasn’t enough to jostle the insentient occupant awake. As Prompto laid in the narrow space concealed under the driver’s bench, the rising flames lighted up the desert behind them as the van sped up toward the distant glow of the city lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, they are returning to Insomnia. Let's bring the kid home!  
> King's Men is drawing to the last third. I would think there to be maybe four chapters after this. Thank you for sticking with me so far. I hope you've enjoyed the ride.


	8. Almost There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we're back in Insomnia and it's time to trade the money for Prompto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long last, an update! I apologize for the wait, guys. NSFW Promptis Week on Tumblr happened and I wrote some stuff there and that took me far longer than expected. Plus, I've been away from home a lot lately, and that directly cuts into my angst time. Thank you for your patience.
> 
> Once again, my eternal thank yous to my betas Elillierose and Ellay_gee for all your feedback.
> 
> Arts people have drawn for 'King's Men'  
> [Sinikka_von_Wolperting](http://freaky-trickster.tumblr.com/post/174877231118/if-thats-the-case-then-youre-of-no-use-to-me)  
> [Bagpipes5k2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230604) and [this](https://bagpipes5k.tumblr.com/post/177415939013/hanging-with-the-wrong-crowd-another-drawing-i)
> 
> A small warning that there is minor character/OC death in this chapter.

The steady rumbles of the engine vibrated throughout the van frame as it glided through the darkness. The only other sound disturbing the focused silence resting above the three men was the incessant tapping of a yielding keyboard. Javier and the tech wizz shared the front seat, the latter’s fingers dancing on the keys in an unfathomable pace. On occasion the shaved brunet glanced toward the dimly glowing screen; at the blueprints, photos, numbers rapidly replacing each other as the man scrolled them through. He was almost tempted to ask why he still bothered, hadn’t they been over this already, but kept quiet. Supposedly, it wouldn’t hurt to be extra cautious.

They were at war in here, after all.

_‘Javier.’_

_He turns his attention to the woman coming toward him, her smile brightening on every step. It’s contagious, her joy; he cracks a toothy grin as he turns around fully, setting down the fillet knife and wiping his hands onto the kitchen towel. It does nothing to remove the stench of salmon, but the woman doesn’t care as she reaches up to peck a kiss against his lips, her arms wrapping around his shoulders._

_‘Hey,’ Javier grins, quirking his eyebrow as he closes her into an embrace. ‘What’s this for?’_

_‘I got it,’ she whispers as if she couldn’t believe it._

_‘Really?!’_

_‘Yes. I’m officially a doctor, Javi. I did it!’_

_‘Jenna, that’s...that’s great!’ he gasps out, overwhelmed, then pulls her in tighter. ‘Congratulations, honey!’ He kisses her, with a bit more fervor, then brushes his thumb over her cheek. ‘You’re going to be an amazing doctor!’_

_‘Do you think...this’ll be enough to get us to Insomnia?’_

_‘They can’t afford you there,’ Javier chuckles, then draws her in for another kiss._

_*_

_His panting sounds loud even to his own ears, too loud. His sides sting with the lack of oxygen, but he pushes himself to run faster. He doesn’t have time for this. Oh, gods, no…! His half-eaten oatmeal splashed all over the kitchen floor long since forgotten, replaced by the gnawing terror, the denial as he pushes through the crowd streaming the streets, moving away from the very place he has to reach. His chest clenched, the corkscrew that was his heart tightening. He couldn’t believe the newscast, he simply couldn’t-!_

_‘- - this afternoon, short-range missiles directed against Niflheim troops holding the city at siege hit downtown Madescosa in what appears to be a tragic misfire by the Lucian side - - civilian casualties are estimated to rise up to hundreds as the evacuation protocols are now in action to prevent further casualties - -’_

_He turns the corner, trying to ignore the coincidence that the increasing wail of sirens arises from the direction he’s headed. He gags lightly; surely it’s just to the exertion on his body - not the pungent smell of something salty mixing in with the smoke that lingers in the air._

_Javier has never considered himself religious, but now he prays. Prays to be mistaken. Six, please…if there was any justice in this world..._

_The thumping steps slow down into jogging, then into reluctant thudding before dying altogether. Javier’s entire body goes slack and he slumps onto his knees. His nails claw at the carbon black concrete; it’s still warm to the touch. He can hardly bring himself to look at the pillar of smoke, the unrecognizable pile of rubble that was the central hospital. A violent, scraping sound of a dying animal tears its way out of his throat. It’s a name. It’s his first and his last, his alpha and omega._

_The rattling flames swallow it up like they swallowed its bearer._

His eyes diverted from the road to his left hand; to the solid black tungsten ring on his finger. Breathing out a long exhale, he mouthed something voiceless, words not meant for anyone present, as his grip of the steering wheel tightened and he focused on the road again.

The city gates within sight, Javier nudged the other to signal him, then tapped onto the peep hole hatch on the wall separating the backspace from the cabin. “I see it,” he called to the third man in the back.

Dark satisfaction in his voice, their leader crowed, “ _Finally_.”

*

“The gate’s guarded.” The soldier didn’t sound particularly surprised.

Neither did the others. The orders to stick to the plan were adopted like a second skin. Javier let go of the gas as two figures in uniforms gestured for them to halt.

“Kingsglaive.”

“How many?”

“Two, as far as I know. Gaius?”

“In position,” the tech wizz replied, only glancing up from his screen briefly as nimble fingers cocked the safety of his gun.

“Act natural. Let’s try to deal with this quietly,” Viper instructed. Agreeing grunts were heard from the front seat, and not ten seconds later, the van rolled into a stop.

A ginger-haired man in his 30s pointed his finger down by the driver’s side window. Javier complied, rolling down the window. “Evenin’, Officer.”

“Evening. Royal Kingsglaive mandate to inspect an incoming vehicle, sir. Could you please tell me where you’re headed?” the man rattled down in almost bored fashion. The Galahdian accent pushed through, although it was clear the man had lived in Insomnia long enough to assimilate local speech pattern.

His expression carefully perplexed, Javier gave him the name and the address of a well-known commercial building at downtown.

“What’s the purpose of your visit?”

Pointing his thumb to the seat next to him where Gaius, dressed in the same working overalls as he himself was, offered the glaives a sluggish jerk of his head, Javier easily slid back into a distinctly Galahdian accent, “Goin’ to work.”

“A bit late hour for working, isn’t it?” the other guard, a woman that looked almost a decade younger than her partner, quirked her eyebrow.

Javier just shrugged. “What can you do? The hotshots there commissioned overnight work. Ain’t no big deal, but noisy. Wanted it done overnight, while the staff won’t be bothered, and so here we are.”

The glaives exchanged a look as if considering his words. Then, the lady glaive declared a bit impatiently, “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to open up the rear door. Please step out of the vehicle.” She was already circling toward the back as she demanded, her tone clipped.

Javier and his companion shared a glance before the driver shrugged and got out of the car. “Is there a problem?”

She brought her hands to her hips and leaned her weight onto one leg as the other foot tapped impatiently. “Sir, we are under a royal mandate to inspect any and all incoming vehicles until further notice. As for why is not for me to disclose and above your paygrade to find out. Now, let’s get that door open!”

A flash of something dark visited the shaved brunet’s face, but it was gone in an equal instant. A trick of light, a convenient shadow. The obvious urge to counter diminished but his tone a good few degrees colder, Javier deadpanned, “Yes, ma’am.”

If the young glaive noticed it, she didn’t acknowledge it. “Good.” He could feel her hawk’s eyes in his back as he worked the latch, then one by one, pulled the van’s back door open.

The backspace was stacked with large wooden crates. Partially concealed behind the clutter, a long-haired man in his thirties waved his hand in a perplexed greeting but made no attempt to get up from the spare seat. He was wearing a matching overall to the two men who had sat in the front. Her eyebrows narrowed. “I thought it was just the two of you.”

“It’s a three-man job, ma’am. The front only seats two.”

“Hmm.” Her indistinguishable hum gave out nothing what the woman was thinking as she nodded slowly. A finger finding its way to her chin, she studied the newcomer with pinpoint accuracy. Then, as if through conscious haze, she muttered, “Thank you.” Without any further ado, she jumped down from the backspace and started toward her partner in long strides. “Dasco…”

“Hmm?” Reading the slight head jerk, his expression tightened with mild curiosity as he joined her. She whispered to him in hasty, soft hushes. Both of them stole covert glances toward the vehicle, trying and failing to hide their intention until Dasco, his chest now broad and rolling his shoulder, stepped forward. “Sirs, I’m going to have to ask you to stand down. Step away from the vehicl-”

BAM! The air was shredded by a shrill screech of a high-pitched voice. A woman’s voice. In the corner of his eye, the glaive saw a brief explosion of yellows and oranges, then a rain of red as the world came to a screaming standstill.

Another bang, this one even louder, and white-hot agony scorched up his upper thigh. He could feel wetness, warmth spreading there, a sensation like dipping into a hot bath but painful. So much more _painful_.

He hadn’t noticed falling to the ground. Only as the world projected onto his retinae in an odd angle -where the ground laid sideways and the approaching steps rose up to him from below- did his screaming body realign itself with its new position. There was a nudge on his shoulder, and his world rotated again as he was pushed onto his back.

He could barely hear his own shuddering breaths through the rush of blood in his head, but the clacks of heels settling close seeped through like plague bells. The world was rapidly blurring, melting into indistinct dance of color and shadow, but the figure looming above him remained crystal clear. It was the third man. The one his partner had described. Tall figure. Long brown hair. High forehead, narrow chin. He remembered the descriptive markers Marshall Leonis had relayed last night. Their top priority.

His partner had not been mistaken.

Viper shook his head, disdain etched onto each and every one of his features as he pointed the gun at the rapidly waning man’s chest. “It is regrettable, really. I so hate to involve my countrymen.”

He pulled the trigger.

* * *

A strong gust ruffled his hair as Noctis precariously stepped out of the car. Onyx eyes scanned the area like a hawk, expecting someone or something to come at them at any given moment. He had the ill feeling he was walking into a trap; but what choice did he have?

The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he understood what he was looking at. The odd assembly stood like a stage in the middle of the clearing. On a feeble-looking metallic rack sat a television screen, next to it a video camera on a tripod.

His brows furrowed in worry. This wasn’t what he had expected at all. His hand briefly visited his chest where the microphone laid carefully hidden underneath his clothes. He had chosen loose wear, a hoodie just to conceal the soft bump. Hell no was he just going to walk up there vulnerable. It ached to admit but he was fairly confident Viper hadn’t bluffed when he had said he’d know if the Kingsglaive came anywhere near the site. But damn him if he didn’t do _anything_. Radio cover was better than no cover at all, and should the kidnappers try anything, the assault troops would be ready.

But now this. This changed his entire idea of how this was going to play out.

He had expected to meet their assailants eye to eye, hand over the money and retrieve Prompto. That thought process hadn’t included what looked like a conference call system - for distance, he now realized, and a gulp got stuck in his throat at the implications of what that could mean. Of course! Of course he should have thought about this. All the man had been doing was harassing him via the phone. Why did he assume this to go any differently?

Surges of rage shot through him and his lips drew back to bare teeth. Dammit, Viper was still toying with him! Nervousness ate at his heart as he reassessed his situation, coming to the disappointing conclusion that once again, the terrorist had the upper hand.

The short ‘whir’ behind him startled him a little, and his attention snapped at Gladio, the man coming into view as the darkened window rolled down. Sitting on the front seat, arms crossed and expression tight, Noctis could see the subtle jolts racing up his tense neck and shoulders. “You gonna be alright?” the shield couldn’t quite keep the apprehension from his voice.

Noctis shrugged. “Yeah…” They wouldn’t be as stupid as to try anything, would they? Hell, with the tv set in place, Noctis wasn’t even sure anyone was going to come anymore.

“It’s a few minutes ‘til,” Ignis noted from the driver’s seat, something withheld in his tone, then he sighed. “Noct, if this’s going to take a turn for the worse…”

He didn’t need to finish it. Whenever any of them would feel like this wasn’t safe anymore, they’d make a run for it. The king and the marshall had made all three of them swear that. That was the condition on which Leonis had agreed to stay behind at the radio control _just in case_. It had taken some convincing to allow Gladiolus to accompany Noct in his place. Allowing the prince into such a risk went against every principle the marshall had lived up to, but in the end, Leonis would be of more use where he could keep track of the situation and give orders should the need arise, and thus he had relented. But not before he had walked them all through a crash course on handling a hostage situation first-hand. They hadn’t come this far just to end up having to arrange a mourning.

“I know. Get in there, warp if I must, we get the hell out of here,” he deadpanned. He dearly hoped he didn’t have to result to that.

Ignis said nothing more, simply tipped his head a little in approval. In the place of the man’s usual collectedness was now a restlessness that manifested in fidgeting fingers tapping the steering wheel, nibbling of lip that didn’t seem to register. Noctis wasn’t sure which one of them was more worried; Ignis was certainly offering quite the competition.

Noctis huffed timidly. “I should go.”

Gladiolus’s ‘good luck, kid’ was a ways off from the encouraging tone the man had probably aimed for as he handed the prince the suitcase.

“Let’s hope I’m not gonna need it.” With a determined nod, he stepped away from the vehicle.

His tread was cautious and light as he neared the makeshift stage. The highway underpass was dim and vast, nothing but massive concrete pillars rising up to support the bridge far above them. Good visibility, hardly any places for possible assailants to hide save for couple of piles of loading pallets and scraps. The openness calmed him somewhat, but Noctis wasn’t going let his guard down. He didn’t trust these men, and the added element of distance raked his nerves. This was going nothing like he had planned.

There was a rough circle drawn on the ground where the camera was pointed. That asshole couldn’t make this any more obvious, could he? Brows furrowing, the prince eyed the chalk line with disgust, silently seething. Viper stripped him of even that little control. He was wrong pretending it wasn’t humiliating. But wasn’t that the whole point? To push the royal family around like marionettes in this sick cat and mouse game that madman had orchestrated?

Well, it would end tonight. The final encore.

Noctis spat at the markings as he begrudgingly crossed the line to stand inside the circle. The prince placed the suitcase to the ground and crossed his arms irritably. Antsy shifting from one foot to the other helped to kill time as he impatiently waited for something to happen.

He didn’t have to wait for long.

The tv screen flickered on - and Noctis should have expected something like this from the moment he first laid eyes on the damned device. But the image of gagged Prompto with a gun barrel trained to his head still made his stomach lurch unpleasantly.

Prompto looked...worse. The skin on his chest had broken in a bad rash, reaching up to his face. The redness contrasted grimly with the bruising over his abdomen. Filthy hair clung to his skull in heavy clumps. His breaths were shuddery shiffles and he wasn’t looking at the camera.

“Prompto!” It was only a glance, but Noctis caught the held-back tears that had welled up. But what was like an icicle to the chest was the way Prompto simply shook his head sadly, then averted his eyes again.

“Aah, good evening, Your Highness,” Viper’s tone reached him before the man stepped into the picture. He was wearing the same _noh_ mask from last night, the orge’s gruesome features mocking him in eternal jeer. “And right on time, I see.”

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get this over with,” Noctis ground out, jerking his head toward the suitcase.

“Naturally,” Viper smiled, the self-satisfied tone sending shivers down the prince’s back. Then, he brought a phone to his ear. “Ready.”

Somewhere out of Noctis’s line of sight, an engine started, and the hum begun approaching. A red SUV curved into the clearing; it crawled toward him slowly before turning a half U and stopping driver’s side toward him. The car’s windows were tinted, revealing nothing of the interior.

“Now, Your Highness, there is a pallet to your left.” The onyx eyes shifted and Noctis grunted affirmation. “Place the money on it, then return to where you are. No rash movements. We wouldn’t want my finger to slip, now would we?” The prince audibly gulped when Viper cocked the gun, the forefinger curling around the trigger. Prompto choked on a whimper, flinching as the metal brushed his forehead. “Go.”

Shooting a dirty glare at the camera, Noctis picked up the suitcase. Even though he couldn’t see inside the car, it was likely that whoever was in there was reporting his every move, and thus he crossed the short distance with deliberate transparency to his body language. He placed the case carefully on top of the wood and backed away a step before turning around and returning. All the while his eyes burned holes onto the SUV’s infuriatingly opaque glass as if his gaze would eventually bore through if he just tried hard enough.

He huffed as he stepped back in front of the camera. “There. Done. Now what?”

Viper held the phone to his ear, but the satisfied snort that carried over suggested that his claim had just been confirmed. “My, Your Highness! So _obedient_.” Oh how Noctis loathed the smugness in that voice!

Much to Noctis’s dismay, instead of uncocking the gun, the masked man pressed it firmly against Prompto’s temple, the blond unable to keep himself from fidgeting under the cold kiss. He snuffed a hasty breath, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to cower.

“Now, Your Highness, someone will check what you have brought for me,” Viper practically purred. “And you are going to keep your pretty little eyes on your friend here. For if it isn’t exactly what I am expecting to hear, you are going to watch how I paint this place with his brain matter.” If it wasn’t for the gruesome intent in those words, Noctis could have mistaken it to be jovial. Joyous even. Viper’s sing-sung voice had his fists balling at his sides, crackles crisscrossing across his vision.

“It’s clear,” he growled.

“Of course it is, Highness.”

Noctis ignored the sting. His attention now on Prompto, the prince could read the subtle cues in the boy’s body language. His entire upper body tense, head tilted slightly as if he was constantly flinching away from the sudden death pressing onto his skull. He was panting raggedly through his crooked nose, panicked puffs moving the duct tape splayed over his mouth as he tried to gasp. Unspeakable fear of death shone in the sky blue, and he shook his head what little he could around the gun. Noctis’s heart broke at the sight.

“Prompto.” He hated the strangled wheeze in his tone. He tried again, somehow managing to audiate the reassurance Prompto needed. His “Prompto, look at me,” came out close to mutter. Nonetheless, the boy stilled.

“It’s gonna be alright, I promise. We’re doing _exactly_ as they said. We’re gonna get you out of there, Prom, you’re gonna be okay,” he reassured, wishing that he was a little fucking better at wording his mind. Self-expression had never been his strong suit; this was more Ignis’s field. Nevertheless, he never once let his gaze wander as Prompto clung to his voice like a lifesaver.

Then, eyes wide with racing certainty, the blond let out a soft, pitiful whine as he shook his head slowly.

A car door slammed shut, and something moved in the corner of his eye. The other person was wearing a mask too, Noctis could make out horn-like shapes extending from the figure’s oversized head. He made a point not to look though, instead kept his eyes timidly on Prompto’s visibly shaking form. Muttering consolations, promises that this would be over soon, Noctis fought the tightening knot in his gut as the newcomer opened the suitcase.

It was painstaking. On the screen, Prompto lost control of his tears as they now streaked down his cheeks. (‘Prom, it’s gonna be okay.’) Helpless panic froze his heart. How much longer, dammit?! Vaguely he could tell the masked man was fumbling with the suitcase’s contents, most likely counting them and doing a bug sweep before, after an eternity, the assailant closed the case. Soon, a cell phone rang on the screen.

“Yes?” Viper demanded. Then, he chuckled, the sound like one of apocalypse, “ _Excellent_.”

Prompto sniffled, flinching as if the sound had physically hurt him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to curl into himself.

Noctis was boiling. “Now what?!” he spat, finally shooting a glare where he assumed the terrorist’s eyes to be.

Viper ‘tsked’, wagging his finger in a mock scold. “My, _manners_ , Your Highness.” He held a purposeful pause. “Now, my associate will be allowed to leave - unscathed and unfollowed. If there’s pursuit, I’ll consider it a violation to our contract, and I’m sure you understand what that entails.” The SUV revved up and turned tail, loudly accelerating as it sped away.

“Don’t worry, he’s clear,” Noctis grunted, staring unfazed as the engine roar gained distance. Viper said nothing, merely snorted bemusedly. The gun remained where it was, pressing onto fair skin haughtily.

The car turned the corner, out of his sight. Its sounds kept distancing, waning lower until Noctis could no longer hear them. For the longest time, no-one moved, no sound was heard but the soft sniffles Prompto failed to keep under control - until Viper smiled, “It seems you have indeed done as instructed, Highness.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Where’s Prompto?!”

Viper chuckled, then visibly uncocked the gun. Prompto’s breath hitched in what was like an inward prayer as the pressure was removed.

The masked man tapped on his phone, then smirked, “Here’s where you can pick up your precious friend.” Noctis’s pocket vibrated.

However, the raven’s heart skipped a beat at the way Prompto’s eyes widened at those words. The gun no longer threatening to end him, the blond begun to struggle ferociously against invisible bindings. His head swishing around, Prompto moaned loud protests into the gag. From the intonation, the prince could make out denials and...and his name. ‘Noct, no!’

“Oh, almost forgot,” Viper sneered. The camera was pointed lower - to show Prompto’s wrists and ankles duct-taped onto a chair, and next to him on the ground, a large, black box with wires and a digital screen with numbers on it. The red lines read 1:00:00.

“I’m afraid there’s a bit of a time limit,” Viper’s smile was a saw edge. “I’d say the excitement is about to _go through the roof_.” He chuckled lowly, ruffling Prompto’s hair. “Toodle-loo... _Your Highness_.”

The numbers on the screen flickered before they started counting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. I planted a bomb. xD  
> Sorry not sorry.


	9. In the Nick of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, beta read by [Elillierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elillierose/pseuds/Elillierose) and [Ellay_gee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellay_gee/pseuds/ellay_gee). Thank you so much guys! Also, I want to thank you Kagero-assassin on Tumblr for providing insight into what would realistically be Prompto's condition after everything that has happened.
> 
> Arts people have drawn for 'King's Men'  
> [Sinikka_von_Wolperting](http://freaky-trickster.tumblr.com/post/174877231118/if-thats-the-case-then-youre-of-no-use-to-me)  
> [Bagpipes5k2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230604) and [this](https://bagpipes5k.tumblr.com/post/177415939013/hanging-with-the-wrong-crowd-another-drawing-i)

Noctis’s jaw slacked. “What the-?!”

 

On the screen, the red numbers rolled down at a dizzying pace.

 

Prompto’s muffled protests anchored him back to reality. The blond was thrashing in his bindings, obviously hurting himself further as fresh red began to seep out from under the duct tape, but he didn’t even seem to notice it. Noct’s chest clenched. “Prom, hold still! You’re hurtin’ yourself!” It sounded pathetic even to his own ears.

 

Prompto didn’t listen, though, the boy’s throaty cries only increased in volume as his head swished around frantically.

 

The seconds kept ticking.

 

From somewhere far away, it clicked that he couldn’t stay here. Prompto was in danger. And every second was wasting time. Remembering the message, his hand found his phone at record speed. On the screen, a map location and an address. Above them, the screaming red numbers of the timer changed in unison with the ones on the tv screen.

 

Noctis’s swallow caught in his throat.

 

Casting one last agonized look at his friend’s struggles -let it be the Astrals’ mercy that it wouldn’t be the last time- the prince forced his eyes from the tv, and dashed toward the car.

 

He threw the car door open, diving onto the back seat. “Drive!”

 

Their expressions mirrored the panic of their ward’s. “What happened?” the adviser demanded, bits of carefully guarded distress slipping into his tone. Apparently the man had read something from the other’s agitation; he had started the car and was already pulling into move as Noctis scrambled to sit somewhat properly.

 

“Cor! It’s a bomb! Prompto’s there!”

 

“What?!” the shield barked incredulously. “Where?!” Noctis thrust him the phone hastily, giving out the address.

 

Ignis’s brows furrowed. “That’s at the industrial area,” his voice hitched with disquieting desperation. “It’s an hour drive!”

 

“Well, you get a half, Specs! Hit it!”

 

*

 

The black car dashed through the night, Ignis atrociously breaking the speed limits as they rolled up the highway in their wake. Next to him, the shield was engaged in a heated conversation with Marshall Leonis.

 

Backup was on its way.

 

It still stood that they were almost half a city’s width closer to Prompto than the troops.

 

That, and Noctis wouldn’t take no for an answer. Clutching his phone to his chest with one hand and the backrest of Ignis’s seat with the other, the prince leaned ridiculously far forward on the backseat as if it’d make them go faster.

 

27 minutes.

 

“How much longer?!” Noctis was growing desperate.

 

“We’re nearing the industrial area,” Ignis ground out with as much calm in his tone as he could muster. “15 minutes, if we’re lucky.”

 

Noctis didn’t like that answer. He didn’t like it at all. Teeth dug into his lip. “Dammit!”

 

Gladiolus grunted in understanding, then reached out to deck his phone onto the car’s loudspeaker system. The speakers came alive with the Marshall’s voice. “Noctis? Lads? What’s your location?”

 

“Heading east on highway 4, 20 miles from the industrial area,” Ignis fired away, the blazing emeralds never leaving the road. “Any information of the location, Marshall?”

 

“Yeah. The facility itself is a storage space for Halcyon corporation. It’s one of Insomnia’s most notable exporters of heavy industry.”

 

“A commercial target,” bitterness coated Ignis’s tone. “This was never about the ransom money.”

 

“Right. One floor building with office space added to the compound. Two doors large enough for a van, the other large enough for a truck body.” There was a frustrated exhale. “Our explosive specialists have been summoned, but truthfully, with the time window and no presupposition of a bomb…” The shuffle of fabric as the marshall shrugged carried over the microphone. “Material losses might be inevitable. Our primary objective is to secure Argentum.”

 

“Cor!” Noctis had been mostly quiet apart from his gaspy breaths, but now his voice rose with a bark. “You’d better goddamn make sure you’ll get these assholes!” he seethed. “You’ll answer to me personally if you fail at that.”

 

Perhaps it was the shock of having Noctis order him around. Perhaps it was the fact that the young man had never sounded more like a future king than he did at that declaration. For a moment, all the others seemed to freeze under the palpable vehemence oozing from every pore of the raven as he glared in front of him with unbecoming bloodlust.

 

“Uhm. Just received the word from Captain Drautos. The Kingsglaive are tracing His Majesty’s magic embedded on the bills as we speak. Ulric’s leading the assault corps; th-they are in position, Your Highness.” Did _Cor Leonis’s_ voice just shake? “I’ll see it done. You have my word.”

 

The low sound the prince made in his throat was closest to a growl a human creature can possibly come as the onyx eyes narrowed in the dim light.

 

* * *

 

Tossing his weight from side to side, Prompto’s head flew back with a desperate, high-pitched cry. The bindings dug into his skin, accommodating his movements at the cost of chafed skin but never relenting.

 

The wail morphed into a broken sob, and he slumped against the backrest.

 

It was of no use.

 

He wasn’t getting free.

 

The resilient urge to fight had him, again, squirming what little he could, but this time it lacked conviction. A significant part of him was giving up, surrendering to the inevitability of this and the futility of his sad effort.

 

19 minutes.

 

Prompto choked. He was shaking.

 

He could have never imagined it’d end like this.

 

Broken and bloodied, with nothing but the inessesant ticking and the echoes of his own muffled moans to keep him company as the timer counted down the seconds.

 

He didn’t want to die.

 

Not like this.

 

Not abandoned alone in this shithole, waiting for the moment when-

 

His gasp caught into the gag.

 

When the timer hit zero and nothing would be left of him. He shivered at the thought, shaking his head as fear carved into his chest.

 

Would it hurt? Would it at least be quick, or would he still have time to feel it? He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to, he didn’t want! Hadn’t he suffered enough, dammit?! He was starved. He was hurting. His skin _burned_ all over where remnants of the gas ate away at his flesh; the steady but sharp throbs in his ribs, irritated by the long strain from sitting still like this, sent sparks across his entire torso. He could take no more. If it was to end like this...he’d almost preferred it if Viper had just pulled the trigger.

 

It was wet and snorty, but what came out of him was still undoubtedly identifiable as laughter.

 

It was pathetic. Even now, he was thinking of that man. The man who had stolen his life away. Used him any way he wished, just to serve his self-righteous vengeance, then left him for dead like wounded prey.

 

Alone. In the eerily awaiting stillness of the storage hall, it really hit him that this would be it for him. No loved ones to stay with him, no goodbyes, nothing. His heart ached. In his moment of desperation, Prompto would have been grateful for even _that man’s_ company.

 

Anything to distract him from the completeness of his solitude that was now crushing him.

 

‘Noct…’ The prince’s goofy grin rose into his mind - and Prompto tried not to cry harder at the last he had seen of his best friend.

 

Noctis’s fear-struck features, then nothing where the prince had stood on the screen.

 

Gone.

 

Distantly, Prompto wondered if Noctis would come for him after all. But the stubborn sliver of hope was extinguished as a much greater part of him screamed at him to just stop. Stop.

 

Noct needed to stay the hell away from this place! Prompto was fooling himself thinking anything different.

 

He had tried to warn him. Noct was rushing headfirst into a trap. If he came for him, he could die, and never in seven hells would Prompto be able to forgive himself if Noct lost his life like this and he was the cause of it.

 

At least like this, he could tell himself it was for the greater good. He could at least die knowing that Noct was safe.

 

It would mean that he would be alone.

 

Was it selfish of him to at least hope someone to be there for him, for this?

 

Then again, how was this any different from before? His parents had never been there, no-one else had. Not before Noct.

 

He sniffled as he tiredly let his head fall backwards, to look at the network of pipes and bars supporting the high ceiling. His parents. Prompto wondered what they would think. Did they even know what happened to him?

 

Would they miss him? He would miss them. At least he thought so. It wasn’t so bad with them. Sure, his folks weren’t around a lot, but they were good people. Good enough for him to long for. Was Prompto good enough for them, too?

 

He jolted when the metal box made a long beep, followed by shorter, more subtle but still clearly noticeable beeps every two seconds. The digital numbers dove below 15. Prompto whimpered shakily as he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from the ruthless sight.

 

He was soon drawn back to it, though, as strength drained from his limbs and he sank deeper into the chair. It made his stomach wrench, but still his attention returned to the mercilessly descending numbers. He simply stared at them quietly, feeling eerily empty.

 

It wasn’t tranquility, the silence that crept into his mind. It was the calm of a barren wasteland, offering no solace nor salvation. Simply Death waiting to claim him, and in the solemnity of the warehouse, Prompto resigned himself to Her embrace - and waited.

 

Minutes ticked by in near silence. Only rogue sniffles and soft sobs disturbed the quiet, but Prompto no longer tried to struggle. He had tried his best, had really given it his all. If it hadn’t worked then, how in the world could it possibly now, when he was weak from the lack of nutrition, his body beyond exhaustion from all the abuse? He couldn’t do this anymore. He just wanted it to be over.

 

12 minutes.

 

He sighed brokenly into the gag. He was sorry. So fucking sorry. If it hadn’t been for his carelessness -his _weakness-_ none of this would have happened. If it had been Ignis or Gladio, surely either one of them would have figured out a way to get out of this mess. Prompto had tried. He hadn’t even made it for half a mile. And now the government was officially funding terrorism, and it was all because he was too weak.

 

Gods, why did he have to be such a screw-up?

 

‘I’m sorry, Lady Lunafreya. Looks like I won’t be able to keep my promise after all...’

 

His heart clenched borderline painfully at the stomach-dropping sound shattering the silence. Rapidly approaching, growing louder by the second, the rumbling, roaring roll of an engine. Prompto’s blood ran cold.

 

Could it be...?

 

But he had specifically told him ‘no’…

 

The roaring came to a halt somewhere close by, and there were a series of dull ‘thunks’; there were indistinct voices. He couldn’t quite tell whom they belonged to, but especially one seemed painfully familiar - and so _very_ welcome. But Prompto didn’t dare to hope; not, in case he was mistaken and would only have his heart broken again if it wasn’t whom he thought it was. He couldn’t take any more! If he got his hopes up, only to have them crushed again like eggshells under an anvil… The fleeting flicker like a lump in his throat, Prompto didn’t dare to breathe until-

 

Until, at somewhere far to his right, something heavy slamming against metal. The voices sounded louder. Now distinguishable; the blond sobbed into his gag as he instinctively tried to yank himself toward them.

 

His heart skipped a beat at the loud bang; then, scraping of metal. For a moment, the world stood still, hope and disbelief waging a war inside him. After an eternity separated by two heartbeats, there was a sharp, metallic groan as something was shoved with way too much force.

 

“Prompto?!”

 

* * *

 

Noctis was out of the car before Ignis had pulled into a full stop. Cursing under his breath, the adviser left the engine running as he leaped after him. “Noct! We have nine minutes before the bomb goes off!”

 

“You think I don’t know that?!” Not a whole minute had passed without Noctis finding himself staring at the doomsday numbers on his screen.

 

Ignoring the tone, Ignis huffed to himself. Noct wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear. “If we’re not going to find him in five minutes, we have to withdraw. Under no circumstance can we risk getting caught-”

 

“Shut up, Specs!” Noctis didn’t even stop to face him. “We won’t leave without him!”

 

Ignis rolled his eyes with another huff. “Noct-!”

 

“I said, no, Ignis!”

 

“Guys!” Gladiolus’s gruff voice threw them both off. The shield banged his shoulder against a maintenance door on the left side of the building. Both of their faces melting, the men exchanged a brief look before dashing to their comrade.

 

Gladiolus had bared his teeth in frustration. “It’s not budging!” As if to prove his point, he ran himself against the unrelenting door again, grunting lowly in pain. The structure might have seemed whimsy, but stood surprisingly sturdily. The simple key lock glimmered in the pale light as if mocking them.

 

“Move over,” the prince grunted, already shoving his bodyguard aside. Before either of them had time to question him, in a brief flash of blue, something formed in his hand and Noctis pointed it at the lock. “Cover your ears.”

 

The shot rang out, and the twisted metal hung sadly from its socket. Dismissing the gun, Noctis gripped it with both hands. “A little beef in here, big guy?” he snorted at the shield. Gladio wasted no time, and together, they wrung the broken lock out of the way.

 

Noctis threw himself against the door, the metal yielding under his weight with an ugly creak. “Prompto?!”

 

The warehouse was enormous. Endless rows of shelves, filled to the brim with containers with the Halcyon logo plastered on them, stood in front of them. But from between the containers flickered speckles of light. Light, and shadows moving. A muffled moan resonated from farther ahead.

 

“Prompto!” the prince gasped, then immediately bolted down the aisle.

 

In the middle of a clearing, surrounded by unlabeled wooden boxes and a camcorder assembly like the one in the alleyway, sat Prompto. The blond was tossing and turning in his bindings, loud moans streaming out of him.

 

“Prom!”

 

“Oh thank the Astrals!”

 

“Hang on, kid, we’ve gotcha.”

 

Noctis was the first to reach the struggling boy. Skitting to a halt in front of him, the prince quickly scanned him for injuries. Prompto looked terrible. His skin was inflamed all over, and there was a crusted scrape on his forehead. He had to quickly move his gaze away from the deformed fingers as his stomach flipped itself over backwards at the sight. God, what if they stayed that way? No! He couldn’t afford to think that now!

 

“Six minutes,” Ignis grunted as he immediately fell on his knees to work on freeing Prompto’s right leg while Gladio busied himself with the left one.

 

“Prompto. We’re gonna get you out of here, ok?! Just, hold still!” His tone didn’t match with the words; panicked and hasty. Noctis was possibly doing more harm than he was helping, and the head shake and a whine from the blond was a testament to that. Grunting, he reached out to pull the tape off of Prompto’s mouth.

 

Prompto’s reaction was far from what he had expected.

 

“What are you guys doing here?!” the blond cried out, sounding desperate. “I told you not to come, Noct! Get outta here! Quick!”

 

“The hell are you on about?!” the prince barked back, clawing into the tape holding Prompto’s wrist. “That we’d just leave you here?!”

 

“Yes!! Get outta here! This place is gonna go sky high! Just leave me!”

 

“You think we’d just abandon you like that?!” the prince spat at his friend, looking a lot like a wild animal with his eyes blazing and teeth bared. Prompto’s argument died on his tongue, all that came out of him reduced into a strangled ‘ngh’. The prince gave him an eye roll. “Now shut up and hold still!”

 

Prompto’s jaw hung agape as he watched in morbid fascination how Noct tore into his bindings. He couldn’t believe it. This...this wasn’t what he had… I-it wasn’t supposed to…

 

“It’s not comin’ off!”

 

“Here, let me-!” Gladio was already reaching for the tape but Noct pushed him aside.

 

“No time.” Then, he shot a warning look at Prompto. “Hold still.”

 

Prompto was about to protest when the brief flash of blue had him flinching. He reflexively squeezed his eyes shut. A soft whisk brushed his cheek as something slashed through the air next to him.

 

The tiniest jerk, and the tension around his wrist relented.

 

“Good work, Noct,” Gladio praised briefly. Prompto opened his eyes again just as a large palm closed around his wrist, and something sparked in the back of his mind. He was struggling before he could comprehend it, unintelligent sounds of defiance scraping his sore throat.

 

“Prom?! Prom, calm down! It’s just us!” Noctis tried, but he could tell that Prompto wasn’t listening. He was trying to push the shield away, thrashing his head aside. His eyes were squeezed shut again, as if he was afraid.

 

“Noct. We’re running out of time,” Ignis glanced at the counting numbers nervously.

 

“I know! Prom, be still!” a pleading edge had crept into his tone. But maybe that was what cut through to the blond for, with a panicked gasp, the sky eyes snapped back open, and Prompto visibly forced himself to settle. He was still panting, but the terror drained from his demeanor somewhat as it was replaced by recognition.

 

“Now.”

 

“Right,” the prince nodded, and carefully he cut the bindings on Prompto’s other wrist.

 

“Great going. Now, let’s get out of here,” the shield was already stepping toward the exit, eyeing the ceiling structures and the wooden boxes with distrust.

 

“Can you walk?”

 

“I-I think so,” the blond stuttered.

 

“Good. Then let’s go!” Noctis didn’t wait for reply before he was already hoisting him up. He slung Prompto’s arm over his shoulders, muttering for the blond to hold on, and dragging him rather than supporting him, he started after the shield.

 

It was tedious. More than occasionally, Prompto stumbled on legs that would barely support him. Noctis was muttering low ‘c’mons’ under his breath, not even sure whom he was intending the words for. Himself, maybe. But they made progress. “C’mon, Prom,” he murmured as the blond again lost his footing. “You can do this.”

 

But the blond didn’t answer. Leaning heavily against the raven, simply holding himself upright and not fainting seemed to be all he could muster; the raven’s teeth clenched. The people who had done this to Prompto...he would make sure they would pay for this!

 

“C’mon, man…!”

 

It was so soft Noctis almost missed it:

 

“I’m...sorry.”

 

“Huh?!”

 

Without any other warning, Prompto’s entire weight slumped against the other as consciousness fled him.

 

“Prom? Prompto!” There was no response. “Shit! Gladio!”

 

“On it!” Without having to be told, the shield backtracked to the boys. With a curt nod to the one still standing, Gladio gently peeled Prompto’s prone form off him and took the unconscious boy into his arms. “Let’s go!”

 

“No need to tell me twice!”

 

“Two minutes to detonation!” Ignis shouted. “We must hurry!”

 

They broke through the doorway in a heap, none of them stopping or even slowing down. Only when they had crossed almost the entire lot to a safe distance away from the warehouse did they slow down their step.

 

Without a word, Gladio laid the limp boy on his back. All of a sudden, the air was filled with a tremendous boom as the warehouse exploded in a sea of fire. The two still standing were thrown to the ground from the force of the blast. The hot air hit against their faces like a fiery whip.

 

Coughing a little, Ignis eventually clambered onto his feet. “Is...is everybody alright?!”

 

“Yeah,” Noctis moaned, dusting himself off as he, too, picked himself up. There was a smudge on his cheek, but otherwise the prince seemed unharmed; the adviser sighed in relief.

 

Gladio was already on the phone, presumably with the marshall if the tone of the conversation and the thorough consolements that they were all fine were anything to go by. With a few last grunted affirmatives, the shield cut the call. “They’re five miles down the highway. Leonis should be here any second,” he turned to the others. “You alright?”

 

“Yeah. Good,” Noctis nodded. Then, the onyx gaze drifted away.

 

The same couldn’t be said of all of them.

 

The others gathered around the lithe form, all of the men wearing a mask of mortification. They had made it - but none of them found it in their hearts to feel any joy. There was relief, but it was greatly overshadowed by the anger at the sight of the blond.

 

Noctis’s hands were balled by his sides, his shoulders visibly shaking. Gladio crossed his arms with a loud grunt, and Ignis’s mouth was a thin line as he rigidly fixed his glasses. The air was heavy with unspoken truths.

 

Gladio was the first to voice it. “Shit...” the shield drawled, huffing out a heavy breath and shaking his head. He let his arms drop back to his sides, then brought them to his hips. “I mean, you both must’ve smelled it too, right?” He didn’t need to specify. The pungent stench of gasoline, still wafting up to their noses like a testimony to the violence the blond had suffered. The implication left little to imagination. “He was never meant to make it out of here.”

 

“Gladio!” Ignis hissed, glancing briefly at the prince. But Noct’s face simply crumbled, along with the rest of the young man as he fell into a crouch next to his friend, pinching the bridge of his nose and his lips pulled into a pained snarl. For a while, it was silent. Then:

 

“This’s my fault.” A sob distorted the prince’s voice. “Fuck…!”

 

Ignis sighed, then dropped down next to his ward. Noctis made a soft sound at the hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Noct.”

 

“Isn’t it?!” the raven snapped back, and Ignis visibly flinched at the look he was given. Tear tracks running down the prince’s cheeks gleamed in the deadly light of the fire licking towards the skies behind them. The midnight orbs wavered as he glared daggers at his adviser. “They were blackmailing _me_ , Specs! You said it yourself! None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for _me_!”

 

“It’s not that simple,” Gladio huffed tiredly. The wail of sirens was rapidly approaching. “Look. I get how you feel but, Prompto didn’t ask to be treated differently when you guys first started hanging out. Becoming someone to the royal family sets a certain stamp on ya. I’m sure he isn’t blaming you. Back there, he was willing to die for you.”

 

Noctis felt like he had been punched in his pelvis. Gladio’s words pierced him through like a javelin. His gaze flew back to Prompto, his unconscious features, the exhaustion written there. The thought that all this had almost cost the blond his life; that the sole reason why any of this had happened was-

 

_Him._

 

He couldn’t help it. As the fleet of black cars with royal household plates begun to flood the yard around them, he burst into tears and buried his face in his hands as he slumped against Ignis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This isn't the last chapter, no, but getting closer. I have maybe two or three more coming but then that's it. From here, it's gonna get better for Prompto but perhaps only marginally. He is in a dark place still, in many ways, and I'm afraid he won't be exactly happy even though it's over.


	10. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At first, it's over. Then, comes the after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, a huge thank you to my beta-sans Elillierose and Ellay-gee.
> 
> For this chapter, I have a suggested mood song. It's 'Rebirth' by Poets of the Fall - I've marked where to start listening. Optional, but I definitely recommend it for added feels.
> 
> This chapter kinda comes off as slight Promptis. It is very slight, though, and could still pass as neutral if you want to interpret it that way. But if Promptis is your thing and you'd like to read it that way, by all means, do. The shipping aspect wasn't my intention, it just sorta happened. Muse went that way, apparently. If you're not big into Promptis, know that it won't be going any further than this.

The cold, piercing beeping of a heart rate monitor seemed to drown what little talking was muttered out around him. Noctis hardly paid attention to the paramedics running values and confirming procedures to each other. Leaning his elbows on his knees, the prince hung his head, looking at nothing. His own heart lurched a little at each beep, the hollow sound sending shivers down his spine.

 

The events of the past hour...five hours...hell, might as well have been all his life-! All of it, jumbled up in his mind, providing him with bitter memories of smoke, fear and pain. Red. All of it, always covered in red. He winced a little, hissing out at a phantom pain striking his old injury, long since healed but...but again so fresh and raw in his mind as the taste of tang rose to his tongue, as his head grew lighter-

 

Taking a deep breath, then another, to calm himself, Noctis clasped his hands tightly, biting his teeth to ground himself as he fought down the beginnings of a panic attack. ‘Breathe,’ he recalled Ignis’s old advice. ‘Just focus on breathing.’ In time with the beeps, in, out, in, out… Forcibly finding a rhythm, the prince let himself slump farther as the crushing feeling in his chest began to ebb away. A shuddering exhale fizzled through his teeth as he straightened up again and pressed the back of his head against the cool metal, panting lightly. Cracking his eyes open just a sliver, Noctis peered over to his left.

 

Prompto looked so small under the heavy blanket splayed over him. The mask covering his nose and mouth fogged up a little with the slight rises and falls of the fabric. The prince sighed again.

 

At least they were still there.

 

Letting his eyes slide back closed, Noctis relaxed against the wall and focused on counting the beeps.

 

*

 

He was politely shoved aside as they rushed Prompto to the ER. The staff’s apologetic ‘Your Highnesses’ in his ears, he was left to gaze after them, the double-doors swinging wildly on their hinges in their wake. His body made a move to follow them before he could stop himself. Gulping, he averted his eyes, though. He would only get in the way. His shoulders dropped as he reluctantly turned his back to the now empty corridor and trailed towards the waiting lobby.

 

He slumped down into the nearest chair and dragged hands over his face, all the way through his hair. He let them linger on the back of his skull, tugging lightly as he leaned back.

 

Ignis, Gladio and Cor arrived less than a minute later.

 

“Did they say anything yet?” the marshall asked a bit breathlessly as his eyes scanned the otherwise empty lobby. Noctis simply shrugged and shook his head, sinking deeper into his seat. The man huffed out lowly, “I see.”

 

Ignis sat down next to his ward, legs crossed, arms loosely on his lap as he ran a once-over on Noct. “I suppose there’s little we can do but wait for the time being,” he offered a consolation. However, it did little to alleviate the nervousness that manifested itself in fiddling fingers and drawn shoulders as Noctis hung his head.

 

“Yeah…”

 

“And from the way the kid was looking back there, I’d say this is gonna take a while,” Gladio’s chuckle rang a bit bitterly as the man turned to leave. “I’m gonna go get some coffee. Anyone else want anything?” A downhearted chorus of denials and ‘I’m goods’ sounded out. “Alright.” With that, the shield headed off.

 

“I need to make my leave, for now,” Cor nodded briefly, something regretful visiting his features. “But do not hesitate to call me as soon as we know something. I’ll be meeting up with Captain Drautos, but I’ll leave two Crownsguards here with you. They’ll be at the door. Scientia.”

 

“Sir?”

 

Without another word, the man handed him the car keys. Then, his expression softened as he turned back to Noctis and laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. The prince raised his head, only to all but drop it again at the look of hope and reassurance shining down upon him like a beacon. “He’ll be alright, kid,” Cor promised him. “Your friend is a fighter.”

 

Another squeeze and a soft smirk before the usual stoic look returned to the man’s face and he withdrew. “I must go,” he turned to leave. “We’ll be in touch.” With one last nod toward the party of two, the marshall hurried out in wide strides. His steps echoed in the night-quiet lobby long after he was gone.

 

The heavy silence remained rather undisturbed until the shield got back. Once or twice Ignis tried to make small talk to lighten up the mood, but all he was met with were one-word answers and grunts, or nothing at all. He gave up shortly, succumbing to his own thoughts until Gladio came back.

 

Sipping from the simple brown paper cup, the young shield grimaced. “Ugh. Is this supposed to be coffee or just glorified motor oil?” he tried to chuckle, but that fell a bit short. The two others raised their eyes at him briefly, but no-one went with his poor attempt of a joke. In fact, Ignis shook his head ever so subtly, as if telling him not to bother.

 

Shrugging, the oldest let go of what humor he had tried to harbor. “Well, don’t all of you choke up on it now…” he muttered as he sat down on the opposite side from the other two and took another sip of his drink. In the corner of his eye, Ignis just shook his head again before slender fingers rose to pinch the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up to his forehead.

 

*

 

An hour passed by in relative silence, then another. Ignis yawned heartily and took a look at his watch: close to 5 a.m. already. He had asked multiple times if the prince wanted to return home to sleep as there was no telling how long it would be before they would receive any news, but Noct had refused. It hadn’t stopped the recent lack of rest from catching up to him at some point, though. Slumped against Gladio, the prince was snoring softly, the shield equally asleep where he sat, although a lot more graceful in his posture than the other. Ignis sighed softly, fighting down another yawn.

 

It wasn’t until almost two hours later that there was the soft dragging of a door opening. The sharp ‘clacks’ of heels on marble beelined toward the trio.

 

The sound is enough to arouse the shield from his light slumber; he blinked a little to assess his surroundings (even more so at finding the prince drooling over his arm). Cracking a soft smile, he nudged the younger man’s shoulder. “Noct.”

 

“Unngh?” Semi-delirious eyes swam around a little as Noctis gathered his bearings. More out of instinct than anything else he straightened up, rubbing the sleepy dust from his eyes. The clacks registered to him when they ceased, closeby.

 

The woman wearing the doctor’s whites offered them all a formal greeting as she joined them, but waited until she had their full attention before starting:

 

“I understood that Your Highness arrived with mister Argentum?” she offered the young man a smile that conveyed nothing of what she had come to tell them.

 

The last of his sleep effectively extinguished, a metal band chilled his insides as it clenched around his chest. “How is he?” Noctis’s tone bordered desolate.

 

Only then did her smile falter. “Well…”

 

* * *

 

(Please have the mood music start from here [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=We5fBmBC9_I ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=We5fBmBC9_I) \- Poets of the Fall: Rebirth )

 

He had grown so accustomed to that incessant beeping by now that he hardly even noticed it anymore. Although Noctis was sure he would _bolt_ the instant if it were to come to a stop.

 

Raindrops speckled against the glass, streaking down in abrupt little rivers. More than once, Noctis found himself following a droplet as it slid down the glass, to join its kind as a part of a larger rivulet, trickling farther downwards. Then his eyes would catch another.

 

Grunting for the umpteenth time, the prince rested his forehead against the cool glass, hoping it would hamper down the rage that coursed through him in brisk bursts of magic like tiny explosions. His hand fisted against the glass, nails digging into his skin.

 

In the end, it had been over in _seconds_.

 

There had been a firefight. The Kingsglaive had aimed to ambush the group at the slums. But something had gone wrong, a failed sneak-up attempt. It had resulted in a short skirmish, during which the man assumed to be the leader was shot to death. One of the men -shaved sides and a dead look in his eyes- Nyx had brought down before he had time to reload. He was arrested and currently in solitary confinement, under hawkeye surveillance. The third man they didn’t get to until when he was already trembling on the ground. He had had cyanide.

 

The nails almost broke the skin as bitter disappointment tore at him. The things these men had done...a simple death was too good for these bastards. A fair trial was too good for these bastards. They deserved to die screaming. Every single one of them. They deserved nothing more than every ounce of the pain they had put Prompto through! All of it and then some. Dark vehemence building in his core, the prince visioned the vengeance that had been denied of him. He wanted to see them suffer. He wanted to...he wanted… A held breath escaped him in a loud gasp as his eyes slid closed.

 

He just wanted Prompto back.

 

He sighed, this time the motion tearing at his throat. Biting his lip, the prince tore himself from the soothing chill of the window. It was almost automatic by now, the way he crossed his arms over his chest as he rested his back against the wall. His rage drained from him, replaced by a different emotion altogether as he again looked at what he already had for hours on end that day. His heart quaked a little at the motionlessness of the blond.

 

Prompto’s head rested on a large pillow, turned to the side, his mouth slightly agape. His eyes were comfortably closed in deep sleep. Prompto looked so peaceful. And, under any other circumstance, Noctis would have mistaken him to be alright.

 

If it wasn’t for the IV snaking its way into the back of his hand; or the gauzes covering up most of his forehead and his nose; or what still remained of the horrible bruising on his left cheek; or the nasal cannula...

 

Or the rash. The worst of it had calmed down, but his skin was still reddened and irritated, probably would be for another few days. He had sustained first degree burns.

 

The prince let out a strangled sound, his heart quivering. Medically induced coma. That’s what he was told. That they were intentionally keeping Prompto out for now, to give his system time to recover. Before he could wake up.

 

They had told him that Prompto wouldn’t be able to respond but that there was a possibility that he could remember voices or touch.

 

So Noctis had talked to him. Had ignored how stupid he probably sounded and talked to him about anything he could think of. About the new game that was coming out in two months. About his childhood in Tenebrae with Luna, he knew who Luna was, right? He’d had Ignis bring his textbooks from his apartment and had read Prompto the homework from the day he was taken. He wouldn’t want Prompto to fall behind. He held his hand as he would in their secret handshake, gazed at it as if expecting the slender fingers to grip around his palm at any second.

 

Prompto’s hand remained limp and unresponsive between his own.

 

Noctis died a little inside.

 

*

 

He woke up, startled by the sudden jostling. The eben eyes snapping at the direction, it took a moment for the familiar features to make sense to him as Ignis withdrew his hand. The next to register was the straining in his lower body, his upper thighs making themselves known after being restrained in the difficult position the prince had fallen asleep on the chair that now doubled as his second home.

 

“It is about time for visiting hours to end, Noct,” Ignis started, as if the matter would have made a difference to the Lucian prince. As expected, the raven simply scoffed, conveying his stance loud and clear.

 

“I’m staying.”

 

The adviser wasn’t having any of that, though. “Noct, you need to rest. Properly,” he stressed before the prince had time to protest with a remark to his less than adequate sleeping arrangement on the chair. Then, his demeanor softened. “Prompto will be kept in his state until tomorrow morning at least. After that, he can wake up when he is ready. But until then, you should take care of yourself first.” He let his words sink for a moment before delivering the calculated winning strike:

 

“Do you think he would like what he saw if he were to wake up now? With all due respect, Highness, you look like hell.” Ignis only snorted softly at the screaming flabbergast dawning on Noctis’s face at his crude choice of words; the adviser had already won. He was right, Noct knew he was right, and the sudden yawn of the prince was enough to dull what little doubt there might have remained.

 

“Okey, Specs,” the raven agreed. But his gaze again found his friend before he made a move to go with the adviser. “Is he...gonna be alright, though?”

 

Ignis offered him a smile. “They have the best of the best working here, Noct. Prompto will be taken excellent care of. And hopefully, come tomorrow, he will have the strength to wake up.”

 

* * *

 

Prompto didn’t wake up the next day.

 

Nor the one after that.

 

* * *

 

Noctis grit his teeth, studying his own reflection in the window rather than the all too familiar view outside. For hours he had gazed at the cityscape already, thinking none of it would strike as a surprise to him anymore. So instead, he now focused on the features of himself reflecting on the glass: so very vague, fading out into the sunlight streaming into the pearl-colored room.

 

Still nothing.

 

They had discontinued the medication that kept Prompto sedated on the second day. He was still unresponsive and out cold.

 

He could wake up now.

 

It was almost as if he didn’t want to.

 

The king had visited the second day, although that had been only briefly, seeing as there had been hardly any change in the blond’s state. “We just have to wait,” his father had told him. “Your friend has been through a lot.”

 

As if he didn’t know that.

 

Noctis sighed. It had been three days already. “C’mon, Prom...”

 

* * *

 

Prompto’s parents had visited earlier that day. Noctis had been politely guided out of the room to allow the family members the privacy. The doctors had stayed in for a while, to give the Argentums a thorough recap of their son’s condition; and Noctis swore that his world had slowed down as the door that excluded him had closed in front of him. He had peeked inside for as long as he could, had witnessed the devastation twisting Prompto’s mother’s face, and the hollow look in his father’s eyes as he had laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. Then...then nothing. The nurse had pushed the door closed in his face, cutting him out. Somehow, it was as if a lifeline had been severed somewhere. His hand had twitched in the direction of the door. The thought of for once in his life abusing his status -of marching back in there and declaring that he was the prince of the whole damned country and that he wasn’t going to be ordered around- it had crossed his mind; it had seemed so tempting…

 

He had backed away. They deserved to have this moment with him, they were his _parents_ , for Six’s sake. Noctis may have thought whatever he wanted of them but it didn’t take away the fact that they were still his family. Noctis wasn’t. It felt _wrong_ , thinking of it like that, but he couldn’t quite come to pinpoint the reason why. Maybe it was because they hadn’t been there. ‘Like they never were,’ he recalled thinking, and had to bite his cheek from wandering into such thoughts. It wasn’t his place to judge them. Prompto didn’t talk about it; he shouldn’t start now.

 

He never ventured far from the door, though. And to his immense surprise, as the Argentums eventually made their leave, both of them offered him their deepest gratitude for saving their son. And Noctis couldn’t help but mutter, suddenly out of words, each harmful thought as if diminished as they thanked him from the bottom of their hearts for being there for their boy.

 

What else would he do?

 

This was _Prompto_!

 

Prompto, who was still out cold.

 

Prompto, who had been through so much Noctis feared he would never be the same again.

 

Closing his eyes, Noctis sent a silent prayer to the Six. It was carried up to the heavens on the wings of seemingly never-ending beeping.

 

* * *

 

The little artifact’s surface is smooth under his fingers; the digits run along the familiar shapes, dipping into each nook and cranny as they have a myriad of times before.

 

“Not sure if you remember,” Noctis begins, his voice hesitant as if he didn’t know where to start. “You might not, you would’ve been kinda young. _I_ was young…” His voice trails away; fingers stop their practiced study of the tiny figurine. He huffs. Then, he starts over.

 

“You know...when I was a kid...uh, something happened. And, and I spent a long time asleep.” He held a short pause to consider his next words. “I remember this dream place. Like a...a huge garden or something, it was gorgeous. But…also kinda scary.” A soft smile rose to the prince’s lips as his finger traced the long, slender ears of the token.

 

“There was this little creature. Kinda like a fox but...huge ears. It could talk. It knew me, and...I think I knew it, too. It wanted me to follow it.” He let out a small breath as he rose from his chair by the bed. Prompto’s restful features remained unchanging as the prince -before he could even properly comprehend the motion- brushed a few strands of blond hair to the side.

 

His eyes widened a fraction as he realized what he was doing, but he didn’t pull away. Not right away. Letting himself treasure the soft contact for a moment longer -although the reason _why it mattered_ drifted away from him, lingering just beyond his understanding like a frightening phantom- Noctis offered his friend a sorrowful smile.

 

His touch remained even when he finally placed the small wood carving to the nightstand. “He led me through a nightmare once,” a solemn note crept into Noctis’s voice. “Maybe he’ll lead you through yours, too.”

 

On the nightstand, the small, wooden sprite’s unseeing eyes seemed to gaze upon the listless form on the bed.

 

* * *

 

It took a moment for him to grasp what it was that had roused his attention.

 

He had been about to fall under again when something startled him from the limbo of near dreamless sleep. Behind the window, the sun was setting already, marking another day of this waking nightmare coming to its end. Noctis blinked at it; had he truly dozed off for that long? He swore, it had only just been lunch time-! What was going on? Something...something was out of place...

 

 _Beep_ . _Beep_.

 

Noctis’s heart missed a beat.

 

 _Beep_ . _Beep_ . _Beep_.

 

He knew what it was that was amiss.

 

That perpetual, nerve-grinding beeping. It came faster.

 

A gasp slipped out as his eyes widened at the slight wiggling of fingers against the white cotton sheets.

 

Raspy. Soft. But at the moment, it was the dearest sound Noctis had ever heard:

 

“No-Noct?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I promise, from here on, things are getting a hopeful note.
> 
> However, it's also going to be a significant while before the next chapter. I'm participating NaNoWriMo for the first time this year, and thus all of November, I'll be working on original content. That puts all my fic writing on a hiatus; please bear with me for the next chapter will be started in December, soonest.  
> If you'd like to follow my NaNo progress, I'll be posting stuff to my Tumblr (markofthemoros also there).


	11. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto wakes up to meet a familiar face. Emotions run wild as they both begin to realize the extent of the damage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaa-ack! Oh wow, I missed King's Men! My Nanowrimo was amazing. I didn't quite make it to my target word count - but I still wrote a rough draft of my first novel and I am so happy with that. And after that, I still threw myself into writing a Christmas calendar of smutty drabbles, so... I apologize for the ridiculously long wait and thank you for your patience. This chapter really is overdue. I received a couple asks if I was going to continue this story, and I am happy to assure you that yes, I will. I'm going to finish it probably rather soon-ish, too, since there are maybe two or three chapters left after this.  
> Enjoy!
> 
> Beta-ed by Sinikka von Wolperting and Ellay-gee.

At first, it was just darkness.

 

Thoughts were sluggish to gather, like poorly herded sheep in a too large pen.

 

Where was he?

 

And what was that beeping? It came from everywhere; but faint, distant. 

 

Why did everything feel so heavy?

 

A tingling sensation irritated his face. He wanted to swallow but his muscles were reluctant to obey. It took effort to manage even that simple action, and even then, it brought little relief to his aching throat.

 

The beeping was closer.

 

Slowly,  _ slowly _ , Prompto pried his eyes open.

 

The sudden light stung his eyes. Gasping lowly, he squeezed them back shut and grimaced. After a few moments he tried again, and this time he knew to expect the brightness, to bear with it until his eyes would adjust.

 

Just, a particular dark spot remained in his vision.

 

Dozing off in the chair next to him, leaning its head on its palm… Prompto tried to reach out to it, but all he managed was a twitch of his fingers.

 

It was enough, though, for the dark spot was now looking at him, strange adoration in its widened eyes.

 

The name scraped Prompto’s throat as it left him. “No-Noct?”

 

It was almost tangible, the relief that flooded the silence between them. Finally, Noctis found his voice. “Prom?” he asked in a hushed tone, as if afraid that any noise louder would scare the blond away.

 

The said boy snorted softly, giving him a twitch of lip Noctis was sure should have been a grin. His expression softened and he cracked one in return.

 

“How’re you feeling?”

 

Prompto let out a wheezy little laugh that faded out into light coughs. “Heavy?”

 

“Yeah,” the prince’s smile was gone. “You were in an induced coma. It’s been wearing off for a few days now-” He abruptly shut up when the other's eyes widened. Prompto wasn’t ready to hear this yet.

 

Indeed, the blond averted his gaze. Noctis's mouth opened and closed a couple times before his shoulders slumped and he, too, turned his eyes away in shame. “Uhm, sorry if it was too soon.”

 

“He-” a coughing fit ceased him. “Where…?”

 

“At the Royal Mors Hospital.” Noctis hesitated a little before adding, “You were brought here by the Crownsguard after the...after that.” So very subtle, but Noct's heart quaked at the way Prompto's expression darkened. A crease formed between his brows and his neck and jaw muscles tightened.

 

“I, uh…” Noctis trailed off, not sure what to say. What  _ could _ he say? “I should probably let them know you're awake,” he gestured toward the door.

 

Prompto's head swished in his direction at breakneck speed. Eyes wide and mouth agape, his pupils had dilated with utter panic. Noct's insides twisted.

 

Prompto gulped before peeping: “...Stay?”

 

It took a moment for the soft plea to sink in. A request so sincere it would have been ludicrous if the tone it was uttered in wasn't so heartbreaking. Frightened and distrusting, Prompto's eyes flew back and forth between Noct and the door.

 

The prince let out an aching breath. “Prom, I’ll be just a few minutes...”

 

His gut lurched at the subtle shake of the blond head. The way Prompto was looking at him -like he saw him for the last time- the raven couldn't keep himself from grimacing. He had no doubt that, if Prompto had had the strength, he would have reached out to him for real. A simple turn of his palm might have been the best the blond managed at the moment, but the intention behind it screamed loud and clear. Noctis swallowed as he eyed the inviting hand, his gaze returning to meet the other’s, and there was another pang in his chest.

 

“...please?”

 

Astrals above, Noctis didn’t want to hear it! His best friend -anyone really, but least of all Prompto- shouldn’t have to ask him for anything. At least, anything of the sorts. Wrestling on what he hoped to be a comforting smile, Noctis slouched back on his chair. “Yeah. Sure, buddy.” Aiming for casual, only coming out as uncertain, but Prompto seemed satisfied with that nonetheless. The blond sunk back to his pillows a little, some of the tension visibly melting from his neck and shoulders. The tug on his lips spread a little higher this time.

 

“But we’ve gotta let them know you’re awake, Prom.” Noctis grabbed the panic button attached to the bed frame. Prompto seemed hesitant at that again, but eventually, a ghost of a nod. 

 

“O-okay.”

 

It was like Noct’s hand suddenly had a will of its own. He was reaching out to grab a hold of Prompto’s and squeezing before he knew it; the midnight gaze seemed to hold him in place as he reassured him, “It’s gonna be fine, Prom. They just want to make sure you’re alright. All the people here are taking so good care of you, I-” 

 

Noct’s mouth shut with a soft snap. Surprising them both, but perhaps Prompto a bit more, they simply stared at each other in a moment of confusion. A cool sensation like water running down his throat slithered through him as he realized he was still holding Prompto’s hand.

 

Noctis swallowed and his gaze dropped onto the bed, a last-ditch effort to combat the heat that was rising onto his cheeks. “Uhm. It’s fine, I promise.”

 

Peeling his hand away gently (as to not scare Prompto with sudden jerky movements, he told himself), Noctis instinctively buried in into the folds on his lap and brought the other over it. Shifting to sit more comfortably, he pressed the alarm; a flashing red light lit up above the door. Noctis pretended to be interested in that as he willed for the warm sensation to go away. It was embarrassing. And awkward. He didn't dare to think what Prompto would think of it, either. Prompto, who was introverted by nature and wasn't comfortable with people being too close to him. Or touching him without permission. Noctis hoped dearly he hadn't further upset him. Prompto hadn't seemed bothered, though. Merely confused and...and a bit…

 

A bit delighted.

 

The staff arrived to his rescue as the door was pushed open by the same nurse who had accompanied the Argentums yesterday. Gathering the situation within seconds, she offered the prince a curt nod and a ‘Your Highness’ as she hurried to the bedside. 

 

She flashed Prompto a bright smile. “Hello there. My name’s Mercy. You’re Prompto, right?” A couple timid nods. “Good. Well now. It looks like you went through a bit of a hard time, Prompto. You're at the Royal Mors Hospital. You have been unconscious for four days now.” Prompto’s eyes widened a little, but his face fell quickly; he nodded, but this time it was more solemn.

 

Mercy was kind enough not to say anything about it, though. “I know you must be tired, but if it’s okay with you, we’ll take a few tests here real quick, and then I recommend you rest. You’re still recovering.”

 

“I'll go fetch the doctors and we'll be back soon, okay? Would you like something to drink before?” Shaking his head, Prompto turned his eyes to the bed. Nodding briefly, Mercy offered him a smile and left, leaving the two to a tense silence. Disturbed only by the beeps of the heart rate monitor and an occasional rustling of sheets, both found themselves suddenly tongue-tied as each avoided the other's gaze. Noctis's 'see, told you it's gonna be fine’ fell short, coming out as artificial and empty, whereas Prompto's agreement was absent-minded at best, insincere at worst, and Noctis's chest tremored. Resigning to leaning forward in his chair and resting his hand to his hands, Noctis bore his eyes to the all too familiar floor tiling, hoping that the staff wouldn't be long.

 

The door opened again, and this time, two doctors stepped in: the one who had filled Noctis and the others in on Prompto’s condition the night he was brought in, and a man in his sixties who was almost a head shorter than his colleague. 

 

A look of relief spread over her face as she took in the sight. “I'm glad to see you awake, Prompto,” she greeted him before taking out a memo; she took a glance at her watch and scribbled down in her notes. “My name's Melissa Gardemeister and this is Doctor Alistair Bruch.” The older man nodded. “How're you feeling?”

 

“Uhm. Al-alright. Tired.”

 

“Any pain?”

 

“No? Uhm, well, kinda. My hand hurts a little,” he glanced at it as if he'd only just recognized the throbbing sensation. His eyes widened and he gasped out at the sight of the thick plaster securing his two prominent fingers together.

 

The older man hummed lowly as he stepped up to the bed. A muttered ‘young man’ and a nod before he was already reaching over him. “Follow the light with both eyes, please, and keep your head still.”

 

Before Prompto had properly grasped what was being said, a bright light lit up in front of him. Blinking a couple times, Prompto gasped out as his eyes stung a little, but soon he was following it up and down and left to right. 

 

“Good,” grinning widely, the doctor clicked the light off and withdrew. “Normal pursuit.” Melissa hummed in acknowledgement as her pen ran across the paper.

 

Noctis observed quietly as the doctors and Mercy bustled about for a few moments longer. Mercy held Prompto up as Alistair gently turned his head from side to side, all the while asking him simple questions like did he know where he lived. Noctis noted that they didn't ask anything about if Prompto knew what happened to him, and silently, he was grateful. He wasn't looking forward to that discussion.

 

Seemingly satisfied, Alistair nodded and offered his patient a reassuring smile before he withdrew, signalling Mercy to guide him to lie down. “Well, Prompto. The good news is, I am happy to tell that excluding those,” he gestured toward Prompto's bound hand and torso, “-you're physically in good health. We're going to X-ray the hand and the rib to make sure the bones are aligning correctly, but for now it looks like everything's recovering as should. You are likely to experience mild to moderate pains in the next weeks, though, and we're keeping you on pain medication for now, but there's no cause for alarm. It is normal that fractures result to longer withstanding pain even with Elixir treatment.”

 

“E-Elixir?”

 

“An umbrella term for treatment using potions infused with His Majesty's magic. You were administered a Hi-Potion upon your admission to the ER five days ago, to calm down the first degree burns and the most recent cuts you had sustained, and two Potions later to further base the ossification.”

 

“Oh. I see…”

 

Reading something from the downhearted display, Alistair sighed deep, but it carried a positive note. “In the light of the strain your body's been under, you're making very good progress, young man. I'm very positive of a full recovery, assuming that the bones are ossifying correctly. We will know more tomorrow with the imagining.” He offered him a nod, despite the fact that the blond probably didn't see it, with the way he hung his head, eyes in front of him but looking at nothing.

 

“Well then,” Melissa spoke up, marking down one last determined note to her memo before putting it away. “We will inform your parents that you're awake. But for now, you should rest, Prompto.” She shot Noctis a meaningful look.

 

Before the prince had time to argue, Prompto spoke up. “My...parents?”

 

That seemed to crank in a new gear in the raven, for he was quick to convince, “Yeah. They've been worried sick about you, man. They came by yesterday. My father, too.”

 

Prompto's eyes widened. “Your fathe- the...the  _ king _ was here?!”

 

Noctis visibly rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Yeah.” His smile faded, though, as he again paused to consider how to word it that the king felt responsible. “Dad was worried about you. Wanted to see how you were doin’.”

 

As the blond turned bright as a beetroot and apparently actively tried to suffocate himself on his duvet, the doctors and Mercy exchanged an amused look; it was time for them to leave. “Well, good night, Prompto. We'll see you tomorrow for your X-ray. The dinner has been served already, but do you think you'd feel like eating?”

 

His stomach must have thought it was addressed directly, for it responded with a loud, prolonged growl, and instinctively Prompto tried to curl in on himself to silence the treacherous sound. He was still groggy and more than a bit out of it, but the thought of food had his mouth watering. He couldn't even remember the last time he had eaten. It felt like days.

 

Oh, yeah. Right.

 

A bit sheepishly, he glanced up, “Uhm, yes. Please.”

 

Smiling warmly, Melissa held the door for the other two. “Alright then. I'll contact the kitchen and they'll whip up something for you. Are you alright with broth and vegetables? Your stomach might be a little sensitive after the induction, so we'll start off easy.”

 

“Yeah. Fine.”

 

“Alright. I'll see you tomorrow then. In the meantime, if you need anything, just press the button and Mercy will be with you.”

 

“Alright. Uhm, thanks.”

 

“Think nothing of it.” With that, she was gone; the spring pulled the door shut behind them.

 

This time, though, the silence that remained in the wake wasn't an uncomfortable one. Noctis leaned forward. “You want anything? A drink?”

 

“I'm fine.”

 

'No, you're not,’ Noctis huffed in his mind but held his tongue. Partly because he feared what sort of a path that utterance would set them on, but also because apparently Prompto tried to be brave. He didn't understand why. After going through something like that, Prompto really had nothing to prove. No-one in their right mind would hold it against him if the blond crumbled down in tears, but here he was, trying to keep up appearances. Noctis wasn't sure whether to be impressed or offended. It was so artificial and thinly veiled, his anguish, that Prompto wasn't fooling anyone. Trying to hold onto his facade was almost an insult, but to whom, Noctis wasn't sure. But then again, this was Prompto's way of dealing with it. In private. And Noctis wasn't going to push him. They'd cross that bridge when they'd get to it. Until then, he would give him time.

 

So deep in his thoughts was he, that Noctis gasped softly when Prompto reached out to grasp something. His movement was still a bit sluggish and heavy, but at least the haze had cleared from his eyes as he gazed at the small figurine he now held in his hand. A soft smile graced his features.

 

“Carbuncle…”

 

Noctis's breath caught. “You...you know him?”

 

“Uhm, not really. Kinda. Dunno if that makes any sense...it just sorta...popped into my head. Kinda like I'd always known him.”

 

“-always known him,” Noctis finished with him, and offered a smile at Prompto's bewildered expression. The blond was squeezing the small wood carving in his hand.

 

“Yeah,” he breathed in amazement. “What is it?”

 

“I'm not sure. Just that, when I was-,” his voice faltered at the painful memory, “-well, unconscious from an accident, as a kid, he kept me company. I guess he's kind of a guardian?”

 

Prompto hummed in thought; his fingers traced the shapes of the figurine absentmindedly. “In there…it told me...that I should keep moving. That...someone's waiting for me…” Noctis's mouth ran dry. Slowly, the sky gaze turned to him. “Were you here...this whole time?”

 

Noctis choked on a breath. “Of course, I was,” slipped out under an exhale. “Dude, Specs had to drag me home.” He regretted the blurt the instant it was out, and Noctis grimaced inwardly as the all too familiar heat again crept over his cheeks. Why did he say that?!

 

The prince's train of thought derailed as Prompto mused, “I...heard you...” His face a thoughtful frown, Prompto wriggled the fingers of his free hand - the hand Noctis had held on multiple occasions over the past few days, and a fleeting thought that Prompto was saying more than he was saying scrunched the raven's gut. 

 

Prompto's face softened with a quiet snort and he met the midnight gaze, and every rational thought cleared from Noctis's head. Prompto's eyes shone with the warmth of the very sun as he smiled at him.

 

“You did?”

 

“Yeah. It was all mostly just a haze but...I heard you...talking and...reciting Lucian history, man, that was so dry,” Prompto broke into a wheezy chuckle. Snorting, the prince smacked his arm.

 

“Ass.”

 

“Hey! I'm the patient here, aren't I?” Prompto laughed a bit weakly as he massaged the spot. Then laughter faded from his features, replaced by sincerity. “Thanks.”

 

Noctis swore if these stomach cramps wouldn't stop, he'd wind himself in an early grave! “For what?”

 

Prompto shrugged, averting his eyes. “Well, you know. Being there, I guess. And-” His breath hitched, a visible shudder running through him, and Prompto wrapped his arms tightly around his middle as he curled in on himself a little. The same unspeakable fear crossed over his features again, and his fingers dug into his skin. Noctis's face crumbled at the understanding of the place the other must have been in in his mind.

 

“Hey.” Prompto jumped at the touch on his shoulder. Noctis towering over him, while not exactly intimidating, was imposing nonetheless, and the boy stilled under the other's presence that suddenly seemed to fill up the entire room.

 

“It's over now,” the raven reassured. “You're safe. Nothing bad's gonna happen to you anymore. I swear.”

 

Prompto's lip quivered as he, wide-eyed and frozen in place, stared up to the looming form. Blood thumped in his ears and his throat was tight, but the promise in those words, the relief that began to spread through him were slowly calming the squall inside. Noct's hand never wavered, not even when his expression softened, a distant whisker of his name in his ears, and Prompto could almost see the shard storm as something inside shattered.

 

A single soft, dry sob was Noct's only warning before Prompto's form crashed against him. His good hand clenched the fabric of his shirt as Prompto buried his face in his shoulder, and cried.


	12. Panic Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've arrived at panic station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a requirement, but I've been listening to Muse's 'Something Human' practically on loop when writing this. I recommend checking it out just for fun, but it also goes with the general mood of the rest of this story. All in all, this is a Muse chapter; the title and the summary are also from them, song title 'Panic Station'.  
> Also, as it appears, I'm a goddamn liar. I've been telling y'all that 'there are maybe two more chapters left' since chapter 9 - and now I'm doing it again. But this time I really have planned two more chapters, and this time I aim to keep it at that, even if the chapters might end up being on the long side.
> 
> As always, I thank my beta readers [Elillierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elillierose/pseuds/Elillierose) and [Ellay_gee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellay_gee/pseuds/ellay_gee).
> 
> Here are arts people have drawn for 'King's Men'  
> [Sinikka_von_Wolperting](http://freaky-trickster.tumblr.com/post/174877231118/if-thats-the-case-then-youre-of-no-use-to-me)  
> [Bagpipes5k2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230604) and [this](https://bagpipes5k.tumblr.com/post/177415939013/hanging-with-the-wrong-crowd-another-drawing-i)  
> Bagpipes has actually done more, but they aren't posted anywhere atm. I'll update the links accordingly. Thank you both. I'm so flattered!
> 
> [Find me on Tumblr](https://markofthemoros.tumblr.com)

Noctis sighed quietly, shaking his head as he eyed the prone form before him. Prompto’s chest rose and fell steadily, his features comfortably lax in deep sleep. All except for his mouth, where his lips curled up slightly at the edges. A soft snort, and Prompto nuzzled his cheek into the pillow a little. 

 

The prince’s eyes narrowed with affection.

 

As Prompto had eventually calmed down -his desolate sobs easing out into stifled sniffles before quieting altogether- he had still remained where he was: pressed against Noctis and gripping the front of his shirt, although less tightly. And Noctis had let him. Not knowing what else to do, he had held him. Held until the blond’s breaths had slowed down and his body had relaxed against him.

 

Noctis pulled back just enough to see the faint tear tracks running from beneath closed lids. Prompto hadn’t woken up at that little jostling, not even when Noctis had carefully guided him back down.

 

The raven snorted bemusedly as his thumb traced curved lines onto the back of the hand clamped between his own. The skin of the other calloused but warm beneath his fingers, Noctis pressed the tangle of digits against his chin. He hesitated a little before pecking a kiss against his own palm over their joined hands.

 

A strange itch irritated his throat; Noctis detangled their hands as dry coughs he wasn’t willing to let out had him bending over a little. As the twitching subsided, his gaze snapped back at the blond’s face in case his little fit had woken Prompto up. It hadn’t. Letting go of his breath, Noctis set Prompto’s hand gently on the boy's chest; Prompto moaned quietly in his sleep and his eyes fluttered a little, but he never made it to the world of wakefulness. The prince sighed -was it out of relief or disappointment, he wouldn’t begin to decipher- as he slumped back down to his chair. Fishing out his phone, he checked the time.

 

He hadn’t noticed Ignis’s message. The adviser would be picking him up in fifteen minutes, which was about the time before visiting hours would be over. Noctis grunted lowly. Leaving Prompto alone when the blond was unconscious was one thing. But now that Prompto was awake... the raven could have sworn his lungs were collapsing at the thought. The way the blond had practically draped himself over him...Noctis felt like a criminal for abandoning him when his friend so obviously needed the company. Ignis and the staff had been adamant about Noctis not staying for the night. The prince or not, there were rules to follow. But surely that would be different now that Prompto was awake? Maybe he could hope for some leniency. Thin as that hope was, Noctis spent the rest of the wait preparing to present his case as if he was a lawyer pleading to a judge - and not the future ruler whose word would be final one day. As the door was knocked thrice and Ignis stepped in, Noctis leaped up from the chair like a knight advancing to battle.

 

Ignis swept this fight aside with a single nod and a small smile. “Evening, Noct.”

 

Thrown off by the sentiment in the other’s demeanor, Noctis’s mouth opened, then closed before opened again. “Uh, hi, Ignis. I...got your message.”

 

Ignis nodded before turning his attention to the bed. “How is he?”

 

“Shaken. I know, a surprise, right? He doesn’t wanna be left alone.” Hopeful eyes bore into the adviser’s cheek. “Can I?”

 

Ignis sighed. “Noct, there are rules to adhere-”

 

“Specs, he needs me! You should have seen it, he was- He was…” Ignis would never find out the rest of that sentence as Noct’s voice caught. The solemn look on his face told him enough, though. Still, rules were rules.

 

“I understand that, Noct, but it is of the utmost importance to allow the staff to do their work in peace. With no visitor wing here for you to stay in, I’m afraid you’d only be hindering their duties.” Before Noctis had time to assure him that he’d either stay up the whole night or sleep on the floor, Ignis added, tone softer, “In addition, Noct, His Majesty has requested you to join him for dinner tonight.”

 

“Dad has?”

 

“Yes. He’s expecting you in an hour. You’ll have time to change.”

 

“But…” the raven’s voice faded as his eyes returned to Prompto’s peacefully slumbering features. He looked so content; his good hand was grasping the blanket, pulling it over himself a little more. His mouth moved soundlessly, quivers but restful kind. He was still smiling.

 

Ignis’s hand on his shoulder made Noctis flinch a little. He had almost forgotten the man was in the room. “Prompto will be alright, Noct. Now that he has regained consciousness, there will be plenty of time to talk to him. But right now he needs his rest, and I’m afraid you can’t stay here. In fact, I’m rather confident Miss Mercy will be asking us to leave momentarily.”

 

“That’s right.” Both men spun toward the third voice. Mercy was leaning against the open door, her arms loosely crossed over her chest and a kind grin on her lips. “I’m sorry but really I must ask you two to leave. We’ll be doing our evening rounds here soon and then settle for the night.”

 

“You can’t make an exception?” Noctis tried, but it lacked the bite in the face of this losing battle.

 

“I’m sorry, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles, Your Highness. I’m afraid I have to insist, and I would much rather if I didn’t have to call on the security to insist with me,” she snorted bemusedly, but her features remained unwavering as she held the door a little wider.

 

“We’re leaving,” Ignis raised a consoling palm, then turned to his ward. “Let’s go, Noct.”

 

Resigning, the prince sighed, “Alright.” Sparing his slumbering friend one more look, Noctis muttered lowly, “‘Night, Prom.” He followed Ignis out of the room as slowly as he dared, his step heavy.

 

* * *

 

Grinning widely, Prompto pulled the front door closed behind him. “Hey, Mom! Hey, Dad! I’m home!” he hollered as he threw his backpack down and shrugged his jacket off. “Guys? You home yet?” He sauntered deeper into their walk-in kitchen, going straight for the fridge. 

 

However, when he opened it, it wasn’t a fridge. The other side of the door revealed what looked like an archway leading into a huge garage or a storage hall. It must have been a workshop; numerous shelves, filled to the brim with car parts and spare wheels, stood tall in neat lines at the back of the room, and at the centre lied two huge lifts used for hoisting cars. 

 

“Whoa...” The portal was large enough for an adult to walk through, and intrigued, Prompto stepped forward. A cool sensation like a summer shower at the end of a too hot day washed over him as he crossed the threshold. 

 

Concrete rasped beneath his sneakers welcomingly as he strolled into the vast air, thick with lingering aromas of motor oil and grating steel. The fridge door closed behind him with a soft thud, but Prompto was too fascinated to take note of how the fine lines marking a doorway faded into thin air in his wake.

 

His grin spreading from ear to ear, Prompto hurried to skim his eyes over the innumerable items on the shelves, fiddling the instruments eagerly as he meandered amongst the sea of supply crates. It was a gear-head’s candy store, and the boy made so many mental notes of stuff he’d have to get for himself he forgot the first items added to the list as more kept coming.

 

What caught his attention was the low, distant groan of metal being bent. It seemed to come from somewhere behind the myriad rows of shelves. His curiosity piqued, Prompto set back down the voltmeter he had been studying and headed toward where he thought he had heard it. “Hello? Anyone there?” Through the peeking holes in between the clutter, he caught a flash of familiar dark hair and loose-fitting short sleeve jacket. “Noct?” There was another groan when something heavy and made of metal was forced to move. 

 

Not sparing a glance in his direction, Noctis stepped through a doorway. “Hey, man! Wait up!” Breaking into a jog, Prompto emerged onto the aisle - just in time to witness the metal door slamming shut. Rolling his eyes and grunting a curse, he hurried after his friend, muttering a ‘thanks for waiting pal’ as he trotted down the aisle. Gripping the handle, he pressed it down hard.

 

A sharp but fleeting pain shot up his wrist at the relentless resistance he met. Confusion and brief panic flashing over his features, Prompto tried again; the handle moved barely half an inch before it met its mark and refused to give. A strained edge crept into his exasperated huff; Prompto grabbed the handle with both hands, and tried again. “Oh, c’mon…! That’s great, Noct!” All he was rewarded with were the cold clanks as metals collided, sealing him in. “Haahaa, hilarious! Now will you just...open this thing…!”

 

There was nothing.

 

Not a sound was heard from the other side of the door: not the prince’s chortles as he listened to the growing nervousness in the blond’s tone; not his returning steps; and certainly not the blessing snick of a lock turning. Simply the ones he made himself, least pleasant of them being the hollow clacks of an unyielding lock.

 

“Gh!” Prompto shoved a palm against the metal - only coming to regret it as the reverberations tore up his arm. The door stared back at him, unrelenting and sturdy. Huffing out a low curse, he sprung a few steps back where he had come from, toward the clearing at the center of the garage.

 

Or so he thought.

 

He would have, if there had still been a clearing to spring toward.

 

As he reached the rows of shelves, Prompto’s stomach plummeted as he was met with dull, undecorated concrete wall where the shelves rimmed the edge of his imprisonment.

 

“No…” Prompto slammed his hand against the wall as if expecting it to go through - that this was just some cruel joke. It wasn’t; his whole arm trembled with the force of the impact. Clenching his hand into a fist, he tried again, giving the wall a half-hearted, disbelieving thump. Something scraped him, and his skin broke a little against the rough surface. What was happening? “Noct?! Noct, this’s seriously not funny, man!” How was Noct even doing this?

 

His instincts kicking in, his sky eyes flew around for any clue. Glimmering between the crates and the shelves at the far left, the eerie green of an exit sign. Prompto dashed before the gulp had gone down all the way.

 

Lined with yellow-and-black attention tape, the door was marked ‘for emergency use only’. Prompto didn’t give it a second thought; this was an emergency, alright. He grabbed the handle firmly, half-fearing for it not to open - and gasped out in surprise and relief as the door almost flung open under his weight. Prompto burst through it in an ungraceful tangle of limbs and floundered for a step or two before regaining his balance.

 

He was in another room, this one a mere fraction of the space before. It looked like a living room - but it was empty. Lacking furniture and people, it stood grotesquely abandoned. It held no decor, save for the tarnished wallpaper splayed haphazardly on the walls, but even that was coming off, hanging sadly from the concrete underneath. There weren’t even any lamps, although there was still miraculously light in the room.

 

That wasn't what had his heart racing, though. Across the room, Prompto found himself facing the sole thing breaking the monotone of the interior: the single solid wooden door on the opposite wall. “The hell…?” What sort of a place was this? Had Noct really come this way? His mind was quickly wrenched from that, though, as the scent of smoke hit his nose. 

 

“Shit!” Glancing behind him, his breath hitched at the trickles of ashen haze wafting as a thickening cloud over the garage space. “Shit, shit, shit, shitshit!” Not wasting a second, Prompto slammed the door shut behind him and bolted for the other. Praying it wouldn’t be locked, he collided heavily with the surface, gasping out in relief as the door gave.

 

That relief was soon to be washed away, though, disappointment and crippling panic rushing in in its stead. Prompto’s lower lip quivered with a voiceless sigh of desperation as four walls and a lonely door again encased him in a space smaller than the one he had just left. “What…?!” he whispered, his voice thin. The suffocating aroma was stronger now; the rattles and pops were slowly circling around him. Sighing out a panicky dry sob, Prompto dashed across the room. The heart-stopping ‘clack’ in his wake made his stomach lurch, but he denied himself a look.

 

It opened - and Prompto wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the view that awaited him on the other side. Again a room, again narrower than the previous one; again another door. A desolate huff slipped out. Panic constricted his insides, pumping adrenaline through his veins with dizzying pressure, and his eyes flew helplessly back behind him - back to the door, and the tendrils of smoke pushing through from the seams. With an unguarded yelp, the blond leaped for the next exit, the thought of  _ what  _ was going on now a distant whisker in the face of this very acute,  _ very  _ comprehensible danger. Grabbing the handle with both hands, not caring what lied on the other side, Prompto yanked it.

 

The yelp was more from the sudden tug on his wrists and shoulders than from the shock of the door not relenting. Gasping, Prompto’s wide eyes shot up the plain wood. He tried the handle again, his fingers gripping it tightly enough for the leather of his gloves to creak against the metal. It didn’t give - not even an encouraging half an inch.

 

Smoke was spreading inside the small room; Prompto’s eyes squeezed a little as it made him cough. Instinctively he crouched down, but he kept cranking the handle, fervor and panic making his gestures sloppy and hurried. Small whimpers formed in his throat as the handle wouldn’t budge. “C’mon! C’mon, c’mooon...!”

 

His breathing caught constantly as the toxic fumes gradually replaced oxygen in the narrow space. “Noct! Help me! I’m stuck!” The door behind his back splintered with a loud crack as the flames bore through, gaining volume at the rush of fresh air. Heat lashed against him like a pulse wave, drawing out a whimper.

 

“No…! Noct-!” He inhaled the fumes - and violent coughs had him bending over as he hacked his lungs out. It was dizzying and it was too hot. He was shaking uncontrollably; his grip on the handle slipped a little.

 

His eyes were beginning to water as Prompto’s wild gaze jumped around the small room; a strangled whine left him at the looming cloud of darkness, descending upon him slowly as if it took pleasure in his terror, wanted to torment him for as long as it could before he would be engulfed-

 

“Noct!” he cried underneath the door. “Help me-!” his voice cracked; curling into himself, Prompto pressed his face against the narrow crack between the floor and the doorframe, desperately drawing in air. The heat behind him ran pinprickles across his back and unprotected arms.

 

“Noct!”

 

Instinctively, Prompto’s eyes flew for the ominous creaking sound. Just in time to witness how the flames ate through a bar in the ceiling structures. The beam's lament echoed eerily over the pops and crackles before gravity took its toll, and the blazing bar sprung toward him--

 

Prompto’s entire body twitched with the force of his head snapping to the side, eyes blowing wide. Echoes of his own screaming still fresh and raw in his ears. For a moment he just stared in front of him in the darkness, incapable of anything else as his heart hammered in his constricting chest, each beat captivating and powerful. A reflex had him gulp in air as his throat began to loosen up. Only when the absence of the scorching heat and the concrete hell having being replaced with comfortable softness began to register did Prompto dare to glance around.

 

Scarce light streamed into the room through the window - cold, probably street lamps. It was difficult to tell shapes; Prompto flinched at the tall, dark form standing next to the door: a figure, head and body, but no face visible. 

 

His instincts kicked in. Instantly flying into fight or flee mode, Prompto glared at the shadow suspiciously - until he recognized it as the coat hanger. Blinking, he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny, then huffed out a heavy breath. It wasn't exactly out of relief, though. The tightness in his chest lingered, restlessness he couldn't shake eating away at him like a parasite: subtle enough to make you wish you could ignore it, but just enough to make you nauseous at the thought. He had to will his good hand to stop squeezing the sheets.

 

Prompto only noticed his breaths had grown wetter when the first tear trickled down his cheek and landed on his hand.

 

Carefully, so he wouldn't tug at the IV cannula, Prompto brought both his arms around his middle to hug himself. Sniffling quietly, he laid his good cheek onto his knees, and surrendered to the strangling sensation clawing at his chest. Silent at first, but soon enough the tidal wave rising in him made landfall, and Prompto broke down as unspeakable terror rattled him.

 

He was rocking back and forth on the bed, hugging himself tighter as he tried to quiet himself, the wretched sounds rising from him without his permission. He had been dreaming, but the details were gone. There was just this... horrible panic, like he was trapped. No way out. Prompto's breath hitched; his gaze jumped around the room, the features now making more sense to him. It did little to comfort him, though, as the nerve-wracking beeping of the heart rate monitor now bore into his mind, almost erratic.

 

Soft whimpers tremoring in his throat, he muttered half-voiced words of comfort as he focused on drawing deep breaths. Why was it so dark in here? He didn’t like it. And where was everyone?

 

Where was--

 

“Noct…”

 

* * *

 

“Gh.” Noctis grimaced as he tugged at his collar. Breathing a little easier, the prince assessed his reflection in the mirror wall of the elevator and straightened his jacket a little. His eyes narrowed at the strictly parted and slicked-back look of his hair. Frowning, he tousled it, back into the unruly look he favored, and gave himself a satisfied once-over as the soft bing sounded, signalling his floor. He stepped out of the elevator and headed across the atrium.

 

Two adjutants bowed their heads as they pulled open the double doors leading into the dining hall. His father was already seated, but stood up as his arrival was announced.

 

“Noctis.”

 

“Hey, Dad.” He took his father’s hand between his own and squeezed lightly. “Sorry you had to wait.”

 

“Nothing I haven’t gotten used to with you, I would say.”

 

“Thanks, Dad,” Noctis chortled.

 

“You’re quite welcome. Now, shall we?” They sat down at the ends of the long table, and soon after, they were served a starter soup. Noctis gave an offhand reply to the greeting to enjoy his meal, but otherwise he dug into it hastily and in silence. 

 

So much so that he was startled by the disapproving ‘krhm’ coming from the king.

 

“Oh, uh, sorry. What?”

 

A frown visited Regis’s features, but it melted away quickly at the bashful look his son gave him. “As I was saying, Noctis - I was informed of your friend coming to today. Tell me, how is he?”

 

Noctis’s eyes widened a little before a dark look settled over his features. “Not good,” he shook his head. “Prom’s acting like everything and everyone’s his enemy, all of a sudden.”

 

“I see…” Regis closed his eyes as he wiped his mouth, then settled against his backrest. “Your friend wouldn’t be the first to get agitated, after something like what he has been through. After all, men far older and wiser than young Argentum have been driven mad by such tribulations.” 

 

As Noctis said nothing, but the air about him grew gloomier, the king sighed deep. “I have come to fail both you and your friend in my blindness to the people’s despair in the conquered lands, my son. And I’m afraid the two of you have paid too highly for my folly.”

 

“Dad…?” the prince perked up.

 

Regis nodded slowly before opening his eyes, and when he spoke, it was with all the regal entitled to his position: “I am sorry, son. For all that has come to pass onto you both.” 

 

His breath catching, Noctis made to speak, but his father motioned him silent with a single raise of his palm. “And while my shortcomings cannot be undone, I am yet to do whatever is in my power to sort out the situation at hand.” 

 

The king’s features softened as he signaled for the adjutants behind him, and another set of doors than the one Noctis had arrived through was opened. “Noctis… There is someone I’d like you to meet.”


	13. Guilt (aka the Good, the Bad and the Ugly)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of blame, responsibility, and everything in between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter is pretty much just talking. And talking and angsting and talking. I sincerely hope it doesn't get boring.  
> Also. Woo-hoo, we have a chapter count. Just so you know, the rest of the story is written, it's in beta reading and I'll post it once it's done and I've made the edits. Thank you for reading King's Men, it's been a marvelous journey.
> 
> Thank you for beta reading [Elillierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elillierose/pseuds/Elillierose)
> 
> Here are arts people have drawn for 'King's Men'  
> [Sinikka_von_Wolperting](http://freaky-trickster.tumblr.com/post/174877231118/if-thats-the-case-then-youre-of-no-use-to-me)  
> Bagpipes5k [1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230604) [2](https://bagpipes5k.tumblr.com/post/177415939013/hanging-with-the-wrong-crowd-another-drawing-i) [3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616578) [4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616500) [5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616470)  
> Thank you both. I'm so flattered!
> 
>  [Find me on Tumblr](https://markofthemoros.tumblr.com)

Sat in his favorite slouch, the prince leaned his elbows to his thighs. Noct had been there all morning - or that’s what Prompto was let to believe, seeing as the raven had been there when he had woken up from restless sleep he didn’t remember falling in.

 

It was nice of Noct, really. It made him feel...important. _Privileged_ even.

 

Just, something was bothering the royal, Prompto could tell. Heavens knew Prompto might have been a doofus about a great many things - like not asking Serie to go out with him at the end of the junior year; or deciding that hot dogs with pickled plums and ice cream was a combination worth giving a shot; or trying to enter his dad’s credit card number into King’s Knight for upgrades and thinking he would get away with it--

 

But this, this the younger man was sure of. The signs were telltale. Noct probably wasn’t even aware of the heavy sighs slipping out of him whenever there was a pause to the cheerful (if shallow) conversation he seemed oddly eager to keep up. His demeanor rang artificial, too. It was almost like he was talking to keep someone warm. But whom, Prompto wasn’t sure. Either way, the theatrics didn’t suit him.

 

There was something Noct wasn’t telling him, and Prompto feared he had a hunch what it might be.

 

The blond swallowed thickly.

 

None of this _mess_ would have happened if Prompto wouldn’t have gone and got himself captured in the first place. It had led to a catastrophe, one that very well could have cost Noct -and so many others- their lives. And it would have been his fault.  The end of the royal line _would have been his fault_ -!

 

A small voice in his head told him to stop. That that wasn’t how it went and he knew better. But how was Prompto to think anything different? If it wasn’t for Noct -and the other guys, he reminded himself- he would’ve never gotten out of the warehouse. He would have- Would have-

 

“Prom?”

 

Flinching at the voice, Prompto’s eyes shot up - to meet the concern with which Noctis was looking at him, looking like he was trying to decide whether or not to lean closer.

 

“Everything alright?”

 

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, fine…” One of Noct’s eyebrows shot up incredulously. It was clear he was far from buying it. The prince was kind enough not to push the subject, but the silence that followed beckoned for an explanation. So, gulping, Prompto made to offer one.

 

“Hey Noct?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

The words burned all the way up his throat. “Uhm, it’s just that...I’m sorry.”

 

“Huh?!”

 

“You know. For kinda screwing it up and all. Getting you all into this mess.” His chuckle was a sad attempt as he shook his head. “It kinda was my fault, right? Like, none of this probably would have happened if I...hadn’t got myself caught in the first place-”

 

“Prompto,” Noctis interrupted, his tone a mixture of flabbergast and being insulted. “What the actual _fuck_?!”

 

The blond looked taken-aback, like someone had slapped him with a wet cloth. “What, what do you mean, what? This...this whole thing, of course!” Prompto gestured around them. “You all got into trouble because of me-”

 

“Hey. None of this is your fault, Prom,” Noctis shook his head like he couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “You were _abducted_ . Those guys that had you were hardcore terrorists, Prom,” he pleaded for Prompto to see reason. Because at the moment, the blond was making none. “It's no-one else's fault except for _those assholes-_!”

 

“But you guys could've-,” Prompto's voice failed him; there was a hitch as his throat clenched around the words he couldn't say.

 

“You think it wasn't their intention from the start?!” Prompto froze, what little color had returned to his face draining. “Prom, their whole point was to target _my dad_. In some fucked up way all of this was personal. The only reason you got dragged into this is-” Noctis's tirade cut off. He was panting lightly. Prompto's lip quivered a little. Gulping down the lump that threatened to strangle him, Noctis's face fell. He had to say it, to make it reality. It was his responsibility, and Prompto's right to hear.

 

“Is _me_ , Prom. All this happened to you simply because of me, and I'm _sorry_ . I'm _so sorry_ -!” words failed him again, and the prince surrendered to it, part frustrated, part grateful. He didn't trust his mouth. He feared what might have come out of it if he had allowed it to continue.

 

The blond stared at his friend, wide-eyed and struck speechless. Noct's raw mortification, brisk like the first crust on a pond when the autumn leaves have fallen, laid him vulnerable before him, and Prompto found himself equally honored and surprised by this realization.

 

The prince averted his eyes and uttered, voice low: “Do you hate me?”

 

The silence that remained was leaden, disturbed only by the slightly accelerated beeps and low but heavy breaths. Noctis’ heart sank as his greatest fears began to settle--

 

Prompto spluttered a little through his cracked nose. “Nah, man,” strands of blond hair swished over his vision as he shook his head. “Not like it was your fault, either. Not kidding, though, it really _sucked_.” Their eyes met - and Noctis wished Prompto didn’t bother because the blond’s grin was warped. Wavering and not reaching his eyes, it faded soon enough as a more solemn look darkened Prompto's features.

 

“Honestly, though,” Prompto sighed under an exhale, “When I was back there...that guy, Viper, he...he said something about that, I think. I’m not sure, it’s kinda hazy but...now that you mention it, it was something about the...the king being a coward?” His eyebrows drew into a thoughtful frown. “He also said that I was ‘unlucky’...for being friends with you?”

 

The words like a cleaver to the prince’s chest, Noctis didn’t dare to breathe as he waited for the blond’s final verdict.

 

“But honestly. I...don't think I would've made it without you.” Noctis blinked.  “And, well, suppose being someone to the royalty... _maaay_ come with a drawback,” Prompto’s tone had grown lighter.

 

“Prom…”

 

“So guess what I'm sayin’ is, I don't blame you.” And this time it was genuine. Small, private, but this time when he grinned, Prompto meant it.

 

That grin cracked wider, and Prompto cocked his head to the side. “Besides. Who else am I gonna secret handshake with?”

 

“Huh?!” coming out as breathless and pitched, Noctis’s spirit soared, his expression brightening like the sun had risen. Prompto simply snorted at him, as if unable to believe they were having this conversation, and at the last possible second, the raven somehow managed to control the sudden urge to pull Prompto against him.

 

Instead, he offered his hand - and Prompto's eyebrow rose momentarily before understanding had the other brow following. Snorting, he slapped the hand, Noctis returning with a shared low-five that started their routine. Up, up, down, down, tap elbow, through hair, right, left, fistbump, finger guns.

 

The prince's eyes shone as he spluttered, “I thought I'd lost you.”

 

Prompto's chuckle fell short. “Yeah. I...kinda thought so, too. That I was a goner,” he averted his gaze in a poor attempt to hide the faint flush that brightened his cheeks, scratching the back of his neck. “Would have sucked, though. To never actually get to see _Assassin's Creed: Syndicate_ ,” the blond flashed him a toothy grin. Snorting, Noctis smacked his arm.

 

“Way to kill the mood.”

 

“Well, what do you know? As I live and breathe, I-”

 

He was cut off by the knocks on the door. Prompto's brows furrowed, but Noctis leaned back in his chair. “Yeah?!”

 

Nyx pushed the door open briskly. “Your Highness? Received the word from His Majesty-”

 

The clatter and the crash of a glass smashing to the floor had both men's eyes snapping toward the bed.

 

Where Prompto was scampering backwards blindly, his wide eyes nailed onto the glaive and rending panic contorting his features.

 

* * *

 

Why was this happening?

 

What was _he_ doing here?!

 

He didn’t know. He didn’t have time to start guessing.

 

All Prompto knew was that distinctly Galahdian accent, and the low mohawk shaved at the sides. The warrior sneering down at him as a knife pressed into his skin.

 

His instincts flared. The urge to escape flushed adrenaline into his system, fueling the fire that was scorching his lungs. But his limbs were still heavy from all the recent strain and sluggish to heed commands. Trying desperately to crawl backwards, a sharp ache shot up his arm as he bumped into something. The distant ‘kerash’ of something breaking flew over his head as Prompto’s pulse quickened at the way Shaved Sides turned to look at him.

 

“...ey?”

 

Noct might as well have been air; Prompto’s back met the wall, and a stifled hiss left him at a surge of panic that had the hairs on the back of his neck rising.

 

His lips pulling back into a vicious snarl, Prompto pressed himself against the bed’s backrest, his eyes never leaving his malefactor. Subconsciously, he was pulling the blanket over himself more to gain any flimsy defense over his paranoia.

 

“Prompto?”

 

His eyes blazing with cold flame, Prompto hissed, “The hell’s _he_ doing here?!”

 

Taken aback by the blond’s response, Noctis shot a lost look at Nyx, the glaive looking about as baffled as he was. Surprised shock echoed in the background of the prince’s attempt at reassurance: “Hey, man. It’s alright. He’s cool.”

 

Chary and insecure, Prompto’s expression softened into a confused frown, his eyes begging for an explanation.

 

“This is Nyx. Nyx Ulric,” Noctis pointed a thumb over his shoulder, toward the man that wisely hadn’t moved from the door. In fact, Nyx had backed away a little. “He’s with the Kingsglaive. He’s fine.” Prompto’s gaze flickered toward the newcomer restlessly, uncertainty clouding the sky blue despite the small nod the blond gave.

 

With a stifled sigh, Noctis turned back to the glaive, “Uhm. Nyx, maybe you should wait outside?”

 

“Yeah, sure.” His mouth tight, Nyx nodded to Prompto before turning to leave.

 

“Thanks. I’ll come over soon.” Noctis gave a flick of his wrist before bringing his attention back to Prompto. The blond’s shoulders were back down, his posture a bit slumped; Prompto hung his head, his eyes downcast but looking at nothing.

 

“Prom?”

 

“Sorry.” And he really was. “I have no idea where that came from,” he added, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “For a moment, I just thought that,” he added, needing to explain himself, “I dunno, man, it’s stupid. I just thought that- that he was...someone else. Someone...it can’t possibly be, now that I think of it.”

 

“One of them?”

 

Prompto hesitated before uttering a low ‘yeah’. Then, the blond’s jaw tightened. “Noct?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Prompto raised his head, and Noctis couldn’t stop himself from gulping at the fierce look as Prompto now stared him down. “What happened out there?”

 

The blond didn’t need to specify. Noctis’s throat clenched at the sheer quiet fury emanating from his friend. So ill-suited for Prompto; so unwavering in his demand. In a fleeting thought, the prince considered lying. But what was the point of that when Prompto would find out eventually? Lying would only be postponing the truth, and it would hurt all the worse if Prompto were to learn it the wrong way.

 

Noctis took a deep breath to summon the resolve. “There was an ambush,” he started. “Right after the money exchange. Lead by Nyx, actually,” Noctis snorted a little as his eyes visited the door, finding dark amusement in the irony of the situation. “The Kingsglaive followed a trace embedded into the ransom money. They raided them.” He paused, his last chance to alter the truth should he still desire to do so.

 

But Prompto seemed to follow his thought better than the prince himself did, for he beseeched, “What happened, Noct? Spit it out.” A small pause before he added lowly, “I can take it.”

 

Noctis swallowed thickly. “It blew,” he admitted. “The one assumed to be the leader was shot to death, and one of the men self-poisoned, but-”

 

“But what, Noct?”

 

Fighting with himself to the last, Noctis closed his eyes, a ritual for guidance to make the right choice. “One of them was captured. Alive,” Noctis met the other’s gaze. “He has the right to a fair trial.”

 

As if through a dream Noctis watched how Prompto’s eyes widened. The blond’s jaw slacked, his lips forming words but nothing came out. Then, his brows drew closer together. “Which one? What did he look like?”

 

Lowering his eyes to the bed, Noctis gave him a quick description as stated in the Kingsglaive mission report he had guilt-tripped Nyx into smuggling to him.

 

“Javier,” Prompto’s voice down to almost a growl, the name was dripping acid as it left his lips.

 

Noctis said nothing. If he was angry, he couldn’t begin to imagine how Prompto must have felt. But it was better that he heard it from him - rather than from _The Insomnia Eye_ or any other trash press lurking around the royal household for a chance at a new scoop. Ignis, armed with the entire royal household PR department, had pulled a few less than savory strings already to limit the damage regarding the explosion of the storage hall. At their best efforts, they hadn’t been able to undisclose the terroristic nature of the incident, not with a culprit captured to face charges. His father had been engrossingly occupied with government meetings, press conferences, and the public brouhaha ever since.

 

But, whatever Ignis’d had to threaten, blackmail, or bribe someone with, he had managed to keep Prompto’s name from the public eye.

 

Thank the Six for small miracles.

 

Noctis found himself almost gagging at the mere mental image of obnoxious journalists _swarming_ his friend, with their cameras and microphones and questions about how he was _hurt_ -

 

He made a mental note to make this up to Ignis. He’d make sure he’d at least get Ignis a week long vacation. Or really start doing his homework properly. Or eating his veggies.

 

Ok, maybe not that far.

 

But he owed Ignis. If Prompto had to go through half the media grind his father dealt with on a daily basis, in addition to now knowing that one of the men who had done this to him was, in fact, still very much alive-- Noctis didn’t want to consider the possibility. Prompto wasn’t used to that sort of attention. Prompto was private and reserved and shy, and he didn’t like to be around crowds. If he was suddenly shoved into such a hellish wheel, when he was not himself to begin with-

 

Yup. He owed Ignis.

 

He might have to give the veggies the chance after all.

 

Because the other option would involve Noctis turning to homicide real quick, and then the PR department would _really_ have some patchwork to do.

 

The raven was hauled from his thoughts when Prompto spoke, voice cold and angry: “I don’t wanna see him. Like, ever.”

 

Noctis sighed. “You don’t have to. You don’t have to be at the court. You can give your statement onto a tape. It doesn’t even have to be a video.”

 

“No, Noct. I mean, like, _ever_.” Prompto’s eyes unbecomingly severe, all the joy Noctis was used to associate with his friend gone as the other stared back at him intently. “News, papers, on the street - ever.”

 

The prince shook his head. “He’ll be most likely put away for life, if not executed. I’m no expert but with the load the guy’s got on his back, he’s pretty much done.”

 

“No less than what he deserves.”

 

Noctis’s eyebrow rose at the bitterness in Prompto’s tone. Toxic and hurt, it made his stomach flip. Not that Prompto didn’t have every reason to be angry. But that hate was so foreign to him, it was so _wrong_ , coming from Prompto. “Yeah…”

 

A sensation, like pins and needles, rose to the prince’s throat, making it difficult to swallow. He had spent so much time hoping -beyond hope, he now realized- that somehow, whatever came to pass to Prompto, he would still come out the same. Noctis knew it had been a ludicrous thought, one his rational mind had shoved to the ground and stomped on and even spat at afterwards. And the prince cursed his naivety that, somehow, that hope had still struggled back on its feet, dusted itself off and limped away to the back of his mind where it had festered, still keeping him clinging to his sugarcoated fantasy.

 

The shattering of that feeble dream abraded his heart as the veil the blond insisted on shrouding himself with flickered, revealing glimpses of the hurt, wronged boy Prompto had become. A part of him wondered how different this Prompto in front of him was turning out to be, and on the other hand, if he had ever known the real Prompto at all.

 

But Noctis knew enough about what fear and grief did to people to know that, while Prompto would carry the effects of his abuse with him for the rest of his life, what still made him _him_ remained unchanged. Subdued and pushed to the back for now, it all was still there: the enthusiasm and the humor and the snark that made Prompto. And if he wasn’t ready to bring that side of him back yet, Noctis understood. How long had he himself been in a close to catatonic state after his incident as a kid? Luna must’ve had the patience of an angel, putting up with him for what had probably been weeks rather than days.

 

And Prompto wasn’t Noctis, either. Prompto was stronger. At times, Prompto made it sound like he couldn’t see it himself, but the boy was -and always had been- far stronger and more determined than he’d ever give himself credit for. He had proven himself once already. Although the whole weight loss thing probably had been mainly just in Prompto’s head, he had still pulled it through, simply on the strength of his will and sheer commitment to finish what he started. Such dedication was a rarity, and just the reason why Noctis was sure that Prompto would fare well.

 

He smiled around the lump that pressed his windpipe.

 

The dedication the blond possessed had spurred forth something else, too. As the prince had lied in his bed last night, tossing and turning as his mind raced like a wild horse, he’d had an epiphany. He would still have to run it by a few people, but if his hunch was correct… Noctis’s lips curled up conspiratorially.

 

“Prom?” The said boy flinched a little as if breaking out of thought. “I’m gonna go talk to Nyx real quick. You want anything?”

 

“Nah. Good.”

 

“Sure?”

 

Prompto chortled a little. “I’m fine, Noct. Go. I bet that guy’s getting sick and tired of waiting already.” Just as the prince reached the door, though, Prompto added, almost like an afterthought: “Noct?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Tell him, sorry about that...”

 

The raven’s eyebrow rose - before he broke a small chuckle. “You can tell ‘em yourself.” He was out of the door before he could figure out if Prompto’s grumble had any real message to it.

 

Nyx was leaning against the wall with his arms loosely crossed over his chest. A small flame danced on his palm, the glaive’s attention on the finicky movements. As the prince’s steps came closer, Nyx’s concentration broke and the flame was whisked out as if a gust had swept it away.

 

“‘Oh, I’m sorry. Did I break your concentration?’” Noctis imitated a well-known quote from one of his favorite movies, one that he knew Nyx to like too.

 

“Do they speak Lucian in What,” Nyx threw back as he cracked a grin. He rolled his shoulder a little to work out some kinks. The glaive’s expression tightened, however; it wasn’t hard to guess what he was pondering.

 

Noctis said nothing. Nyx had seen enough remnants of violence to understand without being told, and being the one who had apprehended the terrorist in the first place, Noctis figured Nyx would do the math. Instead, he cut to the chase: “So, what’s up? You said my father had sent a word?”

 

“Yeah. The thing is-” Nyx was cut off by his ringtone blaring out somewhere in his pocket. Huffing, he read the caller ID - and flashed Noctis a toothy grin. “Well, actually, Your Highness, you’re about to find out what the thing is.”

 

*

 

The hairs on the back of Prompto’s neck stood at the sly look Noctis gave him when he opened the door. He had seen that look before; the raven was up to something. Noct’s eyes shone with mischief, and Prompto could tell he was observing his reactions. “Hey, Prom.” ‘Oh, no, man! You’re not fooling me with that. What’s going on?’

 

A small shiver ran down his spine as the shaved man stepped in after the prince. But the supposedly-glaive lingered at the door - holding it open in his wake, and the blond’s eyebrow rose- “His Majesty King Regis,” Nyx announced, a hint of guile in his voice.

 

The monarch glanced around the room briefly before his gaze landed on Prompto.

 

Paling a good few shades, Prompto’s jaw slacked. His eyes wide, he tried to say something, but all he managed were interrupted starts, sticking to his tongue as frost spread throughout him. “Y-your Majesty!” His heart in his throat, Prompto hastily bowed his head as much as he could, sitting awkwardly bent on the bed.

 

In his best attempt at respect, he was oblivious to a fourth newcomer entering his room.

 

Regis chuckled lightly. “Rise, young man.” Gulping, Prompto hesitated a little before doing as he was told, but his eyes remained downcast, his heart hammering in his ears. The king was here. The ruler of all of Lucis was _here,_ in his hospital room!

 

Oh he was gonna kill Noct!

 

“I am told you have regained your strength well, mister Argentum.”

 

Not knowing how to respond properly, Prompto just nodded. Then, almost as an afterthought in the midst of the expectant silence, he forced out, “Yeah. Uhm, yes...Your Majesty. I’m feeling much better. Thank you.” There was a snort somewhere to his right. Noct’s, no doubt, and the blond made a mental note to add this to his bucket list of Reasons to Get Back to Noct.

 

“I am delighted. Noctis has been worried sick about you.”

 

“Dad!” the raven hissed, his embarrassment audible - but Prompto drew a sharp intake as something inside him leaped. The edges of his lips tugged and he had to wrestle them to get serious again as the king continued:

 

“It’s alright to look at the person you are talking to, son.” A command, but underlined with amusement, and skittishly Prompto raised his eyes - to meet a fond look on his king’s face. One he’s witnessed many times: on his parents, when he was younger and his mother was at home more; on Tiny, when the puppy had recovered well enough to run again. On Noct, when he would laugh at any stupid quip the prince just threw.

 

Prompto’s heart skipped a beat. The name of the emotion danced on the tip of his tongue, just that much from his reach; just a little short of believable.

 

Only then, as he caught movement in the corner of his eye, did Prompto realize that there was yet another unfamiliar face in the room with him.

 

Regis must have read something from the slight furrowing of the boy’s eyebrows. Clearing his throat, the king straightened up. “Now, young man. While it is indeed a relief to know of your recovery, in the light of the calamity that you were forced to face, truthfully, I am responsible.”

 

A waiting silence fell in the room for a prolonged heartbeat. Just enough time for Prompto to process what was being said, and determine the absurdity of it. Just as he was about to decline, the king gestured him silent. Prompto bit his tongue, but somehow managed to keep himself from talking back.

 

The fourth person was a lithe man of roughly the same age as the king himself (although His Majesty looked old for his years, Prompto reminded himself, so probably older), neatly dressed in a knee-length coat, tailored suit with the royal house’s skull emblem showing from underneath. He had a welcoming smile on his face.

 

“This is Doctor Tertius Crane. He’s the head psychiatrist for the Kingsglaive and has done his life’s work on war trauma.” The man offered Prompto a small nod. “Once you have recovered enough to be discharged, Tertius will schedule you appointments with him for mental recuperation.”

 

Prompto shook his hands in front of him. “Oh, no, milord. That’s totally not necessary! I mean, uhm. It, it’s waaay too much. I, I couldn’t possibly accept-” Regis raised a single palm, and Prompto's mouth snapped shut with a soft clack of his teeth hitting together.

 

“It would be my _wish_ ,” the king’s eyes slid closed as he brought a hand over his chest, “that you’d see Tertius, my boy.”

 

Prompto’s voice failed him, nothing but a mewl coming out.

 

“I have known him most of my life, and he has helped countless of glaives over his career, myself included. He has my unwavering trust, and while you remind me of my son in the aspect of stubborness,” Regis gave Noctis a look, “for your own well-being, and admittedly my own, I kindly wish for you to take care of yourself.”

 

Nodding to his king, Tertius spoke up: “Trauma of this nature may not always present symptoms immediately. Those may manifest belatedly, as is often the case with experiences that involve a life-threatening event, such as yours. Thus, in regards to ensuring you virtually as normal life as possible from here on, it is highly recommendable that we see through the overcoming with therapy.”

 

“...Y-your Majesty?”

 

Regis offered him a warm smile. “You have shown great loyalty to my son and thus to me in the face of the danger you had no part of, young man. And it is my regret and shame that my actions have been the cause for such mindless vengeance. It would put my heart at ease to see you being looked after.”

 

Bowing his head, Prompto sighed softly; then: “Thank you...Your Majesty.” What else could he say? Refuse _a personal wish_ from _the king_?!

 

“It is settled then,” the king nodded, delighted. “Tertius will be contacting-” Regis abruptly fell silent at a loud bang and aggravated voices coming from the hallway.

 

_“No,_ you _listen! I want to see my boy!”_ There was another voice, too low to make out what was being said, but apparently the first hadn’t liked it. _“I’m not going to calm down, Lucius! And neither should you. Our son is awake, and they’re not allowing us to see him-”_

 

“Oh boy,” Noctis muttered and bit his lip.

 

_“Ma’am, you can’t go in there right now-”_

 

_“See if I care-!”_ The door was shoved open. “Prompto?!”

 

Every single pair of eyes in the room landed on the short, a little chubby woman now frozen at the door as she took in all the people she had just walked in on, her eyes widening as recognition flooded her expression at the sight of the king. “Yo-Your Majesty!” she peeped as she immediately bowed her head in a curtsy. A man almost two heads taller than his wife skidded to a halt as he, too, assessed the situation in a couple of seconds and hurried to offer the king his salute.

 

Regis made a move to say something, but was interrupted when a weaker voice rose from behind them all. “Mom? Dad?”

 

As if a spell had been broken, Mrs. Argentum didn’t spare the monarch another glance as she all but leaped up and dashed to the bedside where Prompto, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, stared at his parents like they were a mirage. “Oh, Prompto…” her voice broke as she cupped her son’s cheek carefully. “My darling boy…!” Breaking down, she threw her arms around him and buried her tears into his hair.

 

“Mom?” Prompto repeated, his voice crystalline. Lucius Argentum had joined his family as well, and gazed upon them with moist eyes.

 

“Son…”

 

“Dad? Wha-what are you guys…?”

 

“We were so worried!” his mother managed in between her tears. “When we heard about you...of all the things that those men did to you-! And the last I would have said to you would have been terrible-!”

 

Prompto’s expression crumbled at the audible heartbreak in his mother’s voice. “We’re so sorry, Prompto! Your mother realizes it now, we’ve been terrible parents to you! And to think we could have lost you-!”

 

A shaky exhale. As his mother cried into his shoulder (‘We’re going to change, Prompto.’); as his dad pinched the bridge of his nose to hold back his own tears (‘Your mother hasn’t slept a wink, son.’) - it was the last straw. Prompto pulled his mother tighter against him as the floodgates crumbled. “Mo-om!”

 

“Oh, my boy-!”

 

As the Argentums settled around Prompto, the boy’s sobs growing louder and less restrained, the blond nuzzling his mother’s hair, King Regis quietly motioned for Noctis to follow him out. Doctor Crane was already at the door, muttering Nyx a thank you, and Regis raised a meaningful eyebrow at his own offspring. An off-guard expression visited the prince’s features, Noctis probably considering a protest, but seeing as no-one but his father was currently even acknowledging his presence, the prince let out an amused breath, and shaking his head, got up from his chair. His father was right. He wasn’t needed here right now. It wouldn’t have been right, either.

 

Regis offered him a pleased smile as he guided Noctis out before leaving the family in peace. Without a word, Nyx closed the door.

 

Grinning a little, the prince leaned against the wall to wait. Let the family have their moment.

 

Noctis would have all the time in the world.


	14. Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the storm, there's a calm. After the calm, we hoist the sails - and take a direction.

“Would you like me to come with you?”

 

“Thanks, Ignis. But I think it’s the best I do it.”

 

The adviser offered his young liege a joyeus nod, then: “Well then, I shall be waiting.”

 

“Alright. Thanks, Specs.”

 

“Don’t mention it. Although, if you do feel obliged to reciprocate, there _is_ a certain doctrine Your Highness should probably review…”

 

Noctis raised an eyebrow. “Ha ha, Specs.”

 

“You can’t deny it’s worth a try,” Ignis shrugged, looking like a fox in a henhouse with the way his lips curled up.

 

For the life of him, Noctis couldn’t come up with a clever response. It was more often than not that Ignis had the last laugh, after all. Groaning under an exhale, he turned around - toward the all too familiar door leading to Prompto’s room.

 

Ignis’s sting washed away.

 

He had received the confirmation just last night. Cor, as well as the key instructors, had shown his initiative a green light. Now, all he’d have to do was take the leap.

 

Looking sly, Noctis knocked on the door thrice before pulling it open.

 

It wasn’t particularly surprising to find Mrs. Argentum in there, although she was apparently collecting her belongings. Since Prompto had woken up, his parents had visited him every day. The blond had been in higher spirits lately, and probably at least some of it was due to the newly-found appreciation from his folks.

 

Well, better late than never.

 

“Oi! Noct!” Prompto waved a hand. IV-free now, and the mere decrease in the number of medical paraphernalia scattered around the bed made the whole room seem a little more lively. Not to mention its occupant.

 

In his right hand, the boy held an old-school gaming console, a discouraged fanfare ringing out from the device as his character apparently met its untimely demise when Prompto wasn’t attending to it.

 

Mrs. Argentum curtsied but said nothing. Prompto’s parents seldom talked to Noctis more than a few words, and even then it was still rather formal, even though he had told them not to be strangers.

 

Only giving her a jerk of his head as a greeting, the prince flicked a wrist at his friend. “Hey, man. How’re you doing?”

 

The blond shrugged. “Alright. The hand doesn’t hurt that bad anymore.” As if to prove it, he wiggled his fingers, the casted ones moving stiffly in a poor imitation of their nimble counterparts. Prompto winced with a soft hiss.

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t push it.”

 

“Ugh. Heeded,” the blond grinned, pain behind the expression.

 

Mrs. Argentum had packed up and slung her purse over her shoulders. “Well, I have to go to work. I wanted to be back in the evening, sweetie, but I’ll be meeting my customers and, well, you know how these negotiations are…” She fiddled her purse handle.

 

If Prompto was disappointed, he hid it well. “It’s okay, mom. I’ll manage.” Then he added, voice kinder, “That meeting’s important, right? Just, go be awesome, mom. I’ve got it covered.” Then, almost as if he had just remembered the raven being there, “Besides, Noct’s here!”

 

His mother looked like she was about to disagree for a moment, but her expression crumbled. “It’s funny, really…”

 

Noctis’s eyes widened as he noticed that her eyes shone with moisture.

 

“How my boy has grown up to be a young man. And I...can’t help but wonder how I came to miss that…”

 

The youth shared a glance before Prompto, sounding a bit alarmed, consoled, “It’s fine, mom. You needed to go, right? We’ll talk later.” It was a less than subtle attempt to divert an on-coming embarrassment, but apparently his mother got the hint. With a final wish for them to have a nice day and assurances that she’d be back tomorrow and bring his dad, too, she offered them one more nod from the door before leaving, her purse swinging as she went.

 

The boys were left to an awkward silence in the wake of such a parental palaver. Noctis fiddled with the hem of his shirt; Prompto had wrapped his arms around himself in a loose hug, the gaming console now lied abandoned on the bed with a blood-red ‘New Game?’ text blaring on the screen.

 

Prompto was the one to cave first. “It’s kinda weird, you know,” he started, raising his eyes but even then, it was to look at the closed door. “She hasn’t talked to me this much in about a year.”

 

Not sure what to say to that, the prince only hummed.

 

“We used to be closer, you know,” Prompto continued, and the tone made the other wonder if Prompto was talking to him or himself. “When I was little, mom was at home a lot more. Then, when I went to school, she took on this new job and...she became busy.” There was a tenderness to the blond’s voice.

 

“You must have been lonely.”

 

Noctis’s mouth worked on autopilot. Only when the words were out already did he fully grasp them himself, and the borderline shocked look Prompto shot him spoke volumes of mixed feelings toward that revelation.

 

The blond averted his eyes, however. Shaking his head, he brushed it off: “I...guess so. But it was a long time ago.” He offered Noct a sheepish smile, his cheeks glowing a little as he scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry to get all personal all of a sudden.”

 

“Don’t be.” This time, Noctis was wise enough to seal his lips before he would blurt out anything unintentional. Instead he opted for, “So, uh. What’s up today? Whatcha playin’?”

 

“Oh,” Prompto’s newly ignited attention snapped back at the console. “It’s, uh, it's _Iron Fist 3_.”

 

“Retro.”

 

“As they come! Dude, this series is older than we are,” the blond wiped his nose, grinning broadly as he offered Noctis the device. “Wanna try?”

 

It would have been so easy to just go with it. To just take the game and blast away - and back out from the news Noctis had been mulling over in his head the entire morning, thinking of ways to tell them. And seeing as, perhaps by some wretched twist of fate, Prompto himself had set the mood for severity, now would be the opportune moment. Before that sobriety would fade away entirely and it would be all the more difficult to pave the road again.

 

Apparently Prompto read something from his friend’s wavering smile as Noctis gently pushed the hand holding the device aside. His grin small but sincere, excitement twinkled in Noct’s eyes, and Prompto’s lips parted in an unvoiced question.

 

“Maybe later.”

 

“Right,” the blond blunted, his tone perplexed and curious. Then, as it seemed Noct would need some prodding, he cut to the chase: “What’s up, Noct?”

 

The prince took his time. His mouth opening and closing a few times, Prompto waited patiently (if with a slowly rising eyebrow) as the other searched for his words.

 

“Uhm, so you know, all of this,” Noctis gestured around equivocally, “all that happened.”

 

Noctis glanced at him, for his reaction, and Prompto hated the way he couldn’t help cringing. “I told you, it’s fine-”

 

“It’s not fine, Prom! It’s far from fine, and I can’t just-” his throat tightened around the words. Swallowing thickly, the prince wrestled the calm back as he stumbled after the words he wanted to say. “I...can’t just sit back and pretend that something like this couldn’t happen again.” His heart stung at the sharp intake of the other. Six knew he didn’t like it, either. But it was the truth.

 

“As long as you have any ties to me...there is the chance - that someone might try to hurt you.”

 

Prompto’s voice was hot iron, “Noct, if you think I’ll just stop being friends-!”

 

The raven silenced him with a single raised palm. “And not what I’m sayin’. Hear me out?”

 

Prompto eyed his friend warily, as if expecting Noct to try and push him away again. Supposedly on some ludicrous grounds to ‘protect him’ or something. But if that was the option, Prompto didn’t want to be protected. Nonetheless, he let Noct talk.

 

The prince took a breath. “Look. Lucis is at war, and we’re not likely to end this war any time soon. And everyone with ties to the royal family should recognize that.” Prompto hummed, it carrying an undertone of asking Noctis to get to the point. “So what I mean is...if you’d wanna… Uhm, I talked to my father and Cor already and they both pretty much said ‘yes’...that once you’re healed, if you wanna...I’m giving you my recommendation to be admitted to the Crownsguard.”

 

Whatever Prompto had expected to hear, it wasn’t this. His jaw dropping, the blond stared at the royal for a frozen moment. “Say what?!”

 

“Yeah. With the Crownsguard, you’d learn to fight. To defend yourself should you ever need to. And, you’d be given access to my Armiger. Ignis and Gladio have it, too. You’d have weapons, train how to use ‘em-”

 

“Isn’t the Crownsguard, like, _a secret service_ or something?! Aren’t they, like, _agents_?!”

 

Chuckling, the raven shrugged. “You watch too many movies. Nah. More like bodyguards, really.”

 

“Dude. Are you asking me _that_? ...To become your bodyguard?!”

 

Noctis tried _very hard_ not to think about the additional thrum in his heart at the notion of ‘your’. “Well…” Not the way he would have put it, but essentially: “Yeah. But I mean, if you’re not interested-”

 

“Hell yeah!”

 

“...Wait. Seriously?”

 

“Dude, yeah! Six, I thought you were gonna go all martyr on me, like,” Prompto brought a hand over his heart, and imitating Noct’s voice, “Oh noo, it’s not safe for you to be around a prince, oh gaawd, waaah! Nanng, nanng, naaagh!”

 

“Quit it!” Noctis bumped his arm playfully. “But, seriously. You don’t have to decide right now, ok?” Noctis wrestled back the more formal demeanor. “It’s a pretty big decision. Being a Crownsguard means thorough commitment. It’ll be hard work, and not necessarily any leeway. You’d be expected to dedicate your life. Might even have to take someone else’s one day.” The prince paused, a darker shade of courage weaved in in his message. It _was_ a big decision that he was proposing, and certainly not one anyone should make hastily. Prompto might have other plans, dreams to pursue. He had to be prepared for Prompto backing out, too. “And not like anyone’s forcing you...and it wouldn’t be until you’ve recovered, anyway, so take your time...”

 

“Dude, I told you. I’m doing it!”

 

There was a pang in his chest. “...Really?”

 

“Yeah! Absolutely.”

 

And in a moment of clarity, Noctis began to realize that Prompto was being serious.

 

It took a heartbeat for the enlightenment to begin to sink.

 

After another, Noctis’s expression brightened, a locked door inside cracking open, allowing his sealed hopes to seep out. The nervous tightness eating away at his chest was left with no choice but to start ebbing away as it was rapidly being replaced by elation.

 

Beaming, the load off his chest, Noctis offered his hand. “Thanks, Prom,” came out almost as a sigh of relief. “‘Means a lot.”

 

Prompto grabbed it, although a bit clumsily as the cast forced him to bend his wrist to an odd angle. “Yeah,” he breathed out. Cracking a smile of his own, he added, “Ever at your side, man.”

 

* * *

 

_Six months later_

 

His heart beat faster as the car swerved around the corner and the colossal towers of the citadel came to view. Standing proud and impregnable, with the ethereal light streaming towards the skies from within the walls, the royal palace was both a marvellous and imposing sight. Prompto had seen it before, of course  - but never actually been heading inside. Common folk were only allowed outside the perimeter wall, or on the courtyard as a part of a guided tour. Prompto had never been through those gates before. And as they now rose up to meet him, sky-scraping and magnificent, he suddenly felt both small and incredibly tall at the same time.

 

The difference between himself and the people who actually dwelled there -the royals and the officials and the soldiers and the court- had never presented itself more clearly. That in the face of the elite, he was nothing. A newspaper sheet to be spread out on a puddle for those above him to step on. That was the crevasse between Prompto himself and the entitled folk of the crown, now painted before him in grandiose marble arches and magnificent statue gardens.

 

He had never come to realize that before because Noct bridged that gap up. With the way Noct was with him -laid-back and self-effacing and real- it was like there had never been a difference in the first place.

 

And now he was about to close that distance for good.

 

Nervous fingers fiddled the keychain hanging from his belt loop. The car licked the curb of a grand, circular courtyard driveway before it stopped in front of a massive staircase leading up to the main entrance.

 

“And here we are,” the driver announced, looking him in the eye through the rearview mirror.

 

Prompto had to force his hands to calm down. “Uhm, right. Thanks,” his voice pitched a little.

 

The driver only nodded with a polite smile. “Have a good day, sir.”

 

It was a clear dismissal, and yipping a quick ‘you too’, Prompto scampered out of the door - to face the enormous pillars that rose so high he had to bend his head back far enough for his neck to hurt to see the tops. The royal citadel of Insomnia. “Wooow…”

 

There was movement in the corner of his eye. Two men -one of them a friendly face and the other one he had come to know well over the past four months- walked towards him  The younger one of them raised his hand in a greeting.

 

Once closer, Ignis flashed him one of his rare, non-political smiles as he tucked a file under his arm. “It’s been a while, Prompto.”

 

“Hey, Iggy.”

 

The other newcomer cleared his throat. “Well then. I trust His Highness has filled you in on the overall?”

 

Prompto’s cheeks heated up a little, but it was with excitement. “Yeah. He said that we’ll be figuring out a style for me?”

 

Marshall Leonis gave him a quick once-over. “Indeed. And I hope you’re ready to get started right away, because it usually takes both time and practice to see what feels the best to you. All Guards are moderately trained in overall technique, but we all have preferences. And usually there are strengths and weaknesses. And the only way to find out is to try.”

 

Prompto’s fists clenched. A sliver of an old ache stung the knuckles of his right hand, but the pain was fleeting and gone almost as soon as it had come. Prompto swallowed. He had come all this way...

 

Nodding, he met the marshall’s eyes. “I’m ready.”

 

The men led him almost across the entire citadel. Prompto couldn’t help but awe the beautifully crafted decorations, the impressive architecture and the sheer grandeur around him. The men allowed him to take his time - although Prompto caught the amused look they shared at his expense, but he let it slide. Ignis handed him his keycard, instructed him about the areas to which he now had access. It was simply the staff and guards’ entrance and the training facilities - he would never reach the main wing of the palace with his current security clearance level. But it didn’t matter. Prompto’s chest felt too tight for him as it was.

 

Once he had changed, Cor Leonis guided him into a more dimly lit room. Almost as spacious as his entire house, the windowless room sent shivers down Prompto’s spine, but determinedly, he steeled himself to ignore it.

 

“This is the practice weapon storage,” the marshall nodded deeper into the cavern. He was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest and a lazy, sly smile on his lips. “Take a look around, see what strikes your fancy.”

 

Nodding stiffly, Prompto’s brows drew into a thoughtful frown. His heart hammering, his mouth ran dry as he ventured amongst the racks of weaponry.

 

There were displays of blades of all kinds: broad, curved, narrow. Rapiers. Scimitars. Daggers. A stand topped with polearms, some of them blunt, some with a spear end. Brass knuckles. Crossbows. Odd-looking circular bladed weapons with handles in the middle; Prompto had never even seen anything like it. He wandered around, mouth agape with uncertainty, occasionally running a hand along the side of a sword here or chinking the chain of a morningstar there-

 

Until his gaze landed on something. On a table, assorted on a satin-lined tray-

 

The boy froze, a near violent shiver from months ago running through him. A memory of the cold weight resting against his temple suddenly so fresh and raw, like a haunting touch from the neverwhere-

 

Taking in a deep breath, Prompto willed his shoulders down, his upper back muscles to relax. Continuing to inhale consciously through his nose to chase away the discomfort, his eyes narrowed at the neat selection of handguns of various calibers and manufacturers, splayed out for display. Rolling his shoulders backwards a couple times, Prompto let go of his breath.

 

His eyes roamed the elaborate designs; lingered on the finishes of the handles; assessed the functions. Every fiber of his face screamed ‘focus’.

 

Prompto had almost forgotten about the man’s presence when Cor’s voice broke through: “Seeing something you like?”

 

The dark shadow dimming his eyes retreated. Now bright with excitement, with resolution, the sky eyes gleamed as Prompto’s lips spread into a toothy smirk. “Oh yeah!” Not hesitating a moment, his hand closed around the handle of a single-barrel. “I think I have my pick.”

 

* * *

 

_All the small things_  
_True care truth brings_  
_I'll take one lift_  
_Your ride - best trip_

_Always, I know_  
_You'll be at my show_ _  
Watching, waiting, commiserating_

 

_Say it ain't so, I will not go_ _  
_ _Turn the lights off, carry me home_

 

_Keep your head still_  
_I'll be your thrill  
__The night will go on_  
_The night will go on_  
_My little windmill_

 

Blink 182 - All the Small Things

 

* * *

* * *

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story! It means a lot to me that you've enjoyed it through.  
> Also, I am so grateful to my betas Ellay-gee and Elillierose who've seen this through with me. Your helped me to see the way when there was none and your advice lifted this work to the next level. I really appreciate you taking the time, I've learned so much from you.  
> And a special thank you to the lovely people who have done fanart for King's Men!
> 
> [Sinikka_von_Wolperting](http://freaky-trickster.tumblr.com/post/174877231118/if-thats-the-case-then-youre-of-no-use-to-me)  
> Bagpipes5k [1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230604) [2](https://bagpipes5k.tumblr.com/post/177415939013/hanging-with-the-wrong-crowd-another-drawing-i) [3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616578) [4](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616500) [5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616470)  
> Thank you both. I'm so flattered!
> 
> Liked my writing? [Find me on Tumblr](https://markofthemoros.tumblr.com) for more. Fic masterposts, original fiction and shitposting - come say 'hi'.


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